


El Niño

by HappilyShanghaied



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: All The Tropes, Archie and Jughead have a bromance to end all bromances, Awkward Flirting, Betty is sexually frustrated, Bughead might be a little kinky in this so...yeah, But not too slow bc they are horny, Light Angst, Manny!Jughead, Mental Illness, Nanny AU, Slow Burn, This apartment is too small for them not to eventually bang, Weathergirl!Betty, and they were roommates!, tropey trope trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:39:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: When Betty's sister Polly runs off to join a cult and leaves her three-year-old son in Betty’s custody, she scrambles to find a nanny to watch him while she's at work. Betty’s best friend, Veronica, assures her she'll find Betty the perfect nanny. She’s not wrong.***“I feel fine, I just didn’t get a ton of sleep last night. J.J. had the stomach flu and we were up taking turns with him.” Betty smiled softly at the memory of Jughead sleeping curled around her nephew in his toddler bed.“I often get a dreamy look when discussing vomit.” Toni leveled Betty with a knowing look. “Oh, I get it. That hot piece living with you set your ovaries all aflame by taking good care of the kid, huh?”Betty covered her face with her hands, not even bothering to play it cool. After six weeks of living together, she’d given up all pretense of control when it came to Jughead. “I’m sure I only want him because he’s off limits.”“Yeah, it probably had nothing to do with that fact that he’s good-looking, kind, smart, and shares all of your same interests.” Toni was doing a terrible job of trying not to laugh.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theatreofexpression](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatreofexpression/gifts).



> I'm back, and this time brought you the Manny!Jughead fic you never asked for.
> 
> I have a ton of grad school work, but I’m going to try to update pretty regularly (every 1-2weeks).
> 
> Everything is unbeta'd and likely full of mistakes. Enjoy!

Betty Cooper could trace all her life’s problems back to the weather. Like most people, she wasn’t a huge fan of extreme temperatures or storm conditions, but working for the last year as a glorified weather girl on a local NYC morning show really made it a hard topic to escape. When she wasn’t gesturing with fake enthusiasm at a green screen, she was standing in gale force tropical winds, reporting from the center of nor’easters, or wading into flood waters. This wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she graduated with a journalism degree from Columbia University, but – as her mother frequently reminded her - she had to pay her dues if she was going to ever work her way up to something bigger like the features desk or field reporting.

 

The weather had also been the reason Betty’s sister, Polly, left town. The older girl had been eager to go on a camping trip with friends once the Spring season thawed out. Once it did, and she'd left on her one-week trip, their family quickly learned Polly wouldn’t be returning home at all. Her traveling companions had been cult members and Polly was now part of their flock. Betty's sister had always been mercurial and irresponsible, the tangible proof of that being the three-year-old son she’d given birth to her senior year of college after a pregnancy she'd told no one about until the day she went into labor. Polly hadn’t been much of a mother when she was still home, having left most of the child-rearing to their mother, Alice, but abandoning her kid wasn’t something Betty thought Polly was capable of.

 

The weather was responsible for Alice Cooper slipping on the black ice that covered her driveway, fracturing her hip and requiring a lengthy hospital stay. And consequently, it was how Betty ended gaining custody of her nephew, J.J., with whom she now shared a cramped two-bedroom apartment in Harlem. Having J.J. come to live with her left Betty in a bit of a pickle. While she adored her nephew and stoically tolerated the huge shift in lifestyle and responsibilities his presence entailed, the schedule of a weather girl was often unpredictable, requiring her to leave the apartment at a moment’s notice. This made it vital for her to get live-in childcare help, something almost impossible to find when a murphy bed in the living room was the best she could offer for accommodations. Affording rent on a two-bedroom in NYC was already a financial squeeze, renting a three bedroom was an impossibility, and so her options for nannies had been limited.

 

After several frantic days of searching with her best friend’s assistance, Betty managed to find a somebody appropriate, Jughead Jones, a man around her age who seemed to really enjoy kids. He was a doctoral candidate at Columbia, on the waiting list to become an adjunct professor in the creative writing department, and seemed to have no issues with the lack of privacy and space. Apparently, he’d raised his sister – now a film major at NYU - in very similar circumstances. His only requirement was an apartment near the campus library and one night off a week to meet with his dissertation supervisor. He was great with J.J. and always cleaned up after himself. One week in and Betty had no complains at all…until the heat wave struck.

 

With a child in the house, Betty was forced to put regulation safety locks on all the windows, restricting them to only a four-inch berth when opened. The window A/C units were wheezing unattractively, the carburetors intermittently shutting on and off, sometimes pumping only hot air into the apartment. Each unit had a pan to catch the puddles of condensation that collected beneath them, something Betty unsuccessfully tried to have fixed in the past. Betty was lucky Jughead didn't complain much about the accommodations and that the one unit that still functioned properly was in her nephew’s room.

 

As J.J. took his afternoon nap, Jughead was working hard at his laptop, which sat on the kitchen table next to a well-used legal pad. There was a pen clutched between his teeth which he sometimes took in hand and clicked nervously as he wrote. He squinted at the screen through a pair of black-rimmed glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose as he pulled at the neck of his white tank top, which was soaked through with sweat and clung lovingly to the planes of his well-defined abs. Over the course of the morning, he had already made two clothing changes, eventually stripping down to a pair of small running shorts, which rode up his thighs as he propped his lean legs up on a nearby chair.

 

She tried not to stare at the spectacle in the middle of her kitchen, but she hadn’t seen a man wearing so little in a while.

 

Betty had never hated the weather more.

 

Jughead groaned and pushed his hands through his hair, still damp from a recent shower. “You ever stare at a word so long it begins to lose all meaning?”

 

Betty finished rinsing out her coffee mug and placed it on the drying rack. “The entire English language starts to look strange if you really take a step back. It’s completely illogical, and--” When she turned around to add another point, he had a glass of iced tea pressed against his throat - eyes closed, head thrown back in ecstasy - and her thoughts promptly evaporated.

 

His head jerked forward at her silence, eyes now open. “And?”

 

"Hmm?" She pressed a hand to her own neck wondering if he could see her flush and hoping if he did he’d just chalk it up to the temperature of the room. “I, um, was just going to say that English is a living language, so its rules aren’t even static.”

 

Betty loosened a button on her blouse and flapped the thin material in a vain attempt to cool down.

 

When Jughead simply stared at her blankly, rather than responding, Betty wiped at her mouth, assuming she’d left a trace of coffee on her lips.

 

He finally cleared his throat and nodded. “Any idea when your super might come up to fix the A/Cs?”

 

She shook her head. “Every time he says he’s going to fix it, an ‘emergency’ always comes up. I’ve tried to call an outside service to do it, but with the heat wave they’re all booked up for weeks.”

 

“I’d do it, but…” Jughead gestured to himself, drawing Betty’s gaze to his chest. “I’m a bit of an indoor cat. Maybe, I can call my friend, Archie to help?”

 

Betty’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t you say he was a personal trainer?”

 

“His dad owns a construction company. He’s handy.” Jughead shrugged, then stretched his arms over his head, exposing the thin strip of skin below the hem of his shirt.

 

If she didn’t get those A/Cs fixed quickly, she was likely to die of heat stroke.

 

“Always good to have some extra hands,” She blurted out, then quickly covered up the suggestiveness of the statement with an awkward chuckle. “I mean, that’s nice of you offer, but I’m sure he’s very busy. Anyway, I should probably go. Don’t want to be late. After all, the weather waits for no man…or woman.” Her laugh was higher-pitched this time, more strained. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t have to wait for the heat to kill her, she would die of embarrassment.

 

Jughead’s lips curled into an amused smile. “You might want to button your shirt up first unless you want to give the neighborhood a show?”

 

“What?” Betty looked down and noticed she’d accidentally loosened two extra buttons than she’d intended to, exposing the top of her bra. With a gasp, she brought her fingers up to frantically fasten her shirt. “Thank you for that. I don’t need HR banging down my door with a sexual harassment claim.” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping if she couldn’t see his reaction it would be like she hadn’t even made that last comment. She really didn’t need her nanny thinking he might be living with a sexual predator. “I’m going to—.“ She pointed to the door before practically sprinting toward it.

 

“Betty,” Jughead called out, just as her hand reached the knob.

 

She froze, then turned around slowly. “Yes?”

 

He smirked and gestured to her handbag, which was sitting next to his computer on the table. “I assume you need this?”

 

Betty rushed back to the table. “Thank you. Please give J.J. a kiss from me when he wakes up and tell him I will be home soon?”

 

“I’ll make sure to give him a big kiss from you.” Jughead pressed her bag into her hands. “Have a good day at the office, boss-lady.”

 

“You, too?” She flashed him the megawatt smile she was known for on television and immediately fled for the safety of the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

The moment the elevator doors closed behind Betty, her phone was in her hand calling her best friend.

 

The line had barely connected before Betty hissed into the phone, “What the fuck have you gotten me into, Veronica?”

 

“Good morning, sunshine,” Veronica sang into the phone.

 

“No weather quips today, Lodge. I’m too perturbed!”

 

Veronica’s laugh was low and mocking. “I could ask you what has gotten you so perturbed, but I have a feeling it’s more of a  _who_.”

 

“You did this on purpose!” Betty was angry, mostly with herself. She’d been so busy with work and making unforeseen preparations for J.J. that she’d outsourced the nanny-hunt to her friend.

 

“Of course, I did. Did you think a hot, eligible man just accidentally turned up in your living room?”

 

“You were supposed to be finding somebody for J.J., not me.” Betty walked off the elevator and kicked her building’s front door open with her foot, shrinking back as a gust of steamy air hit her in the face.

 

“Are those two concepts mutually exclusive?” Veronica tutted as if Betty’s complaint was unreasonable. “He had excellent references and cleared the criminal background check. Doesn’t J.J. like him?”

 

Betty sagged against the side of her building. “J.J. adores him.”

 

“Then, I’m failing to see the problem…”

 

“Everything was fine until this fucking heat wave hit and he started walking around half-dressed and sweaty all the time. I can’t stop staring at him like some pervert. I feel like one of those sleazy characters on ‘Mad Men’." Betty bit her bottom lip in irritation.

 

“Hmm, you do rock a rather Betty Draper aesthetic.”

 

“I meant  _Don_  Draper, not Betty!” The studio car pulled up to the corner and Betty got into it, sighing as her warm skin soaked up the chilled air. “Maybe the heat is just frying my brain?”

 

“Or, maybe, you just need to get laid?” Veronica suggested, unhelpfully.

 

“ _Obviously_ , I need to get laid, but it’s not going to be by the guy watching my nephew. I can’t exactly escape back to my place when the whole thing goes sideways, can I? And that’s assuming he doesn’t find me repulsive and bolt in the night after my advances,” She huffed into the receiver as her back collided with the leather seat. “This is a disaster.”

 

“No, Alexander MacQueen’s 2015 Fall line was a disaster, this is just an inconvenience,” Veronica said, correcting her. “Stop stressing and we’ll work everything out when you get here.”

 

The line disconnected before Betty could respond. She cursed once last time at the phone before shoving it back into her handbag.

 

Veronica was right, Betty needed to get laid. Maybe if she got everything out of her system with some other guy, she could avoid turning into a desperate cliché?

 

Just then, a photo popped up on her phone. It was Jughead holding her tired-looking nephew with his lips pressed to the side of J.J.’s sleep-rumbled hair along with the caption,  _‘Mission Accomplished!’_.

 

Veronica was wrong. This was a disaster on par with Krakatoa.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you readers are the BEST. I was bowled over by how much encouragement my first chapter got, and it made the decision to put off doing school work in order to write this chapter, because:  
> fanfiction readers > grad school.
> 
> You want the tropes? You can't handle the tropes! (of course, you can and I'm seriously going to work them all in).
> 
> TheHeavyCrown created truly [awesome artwork](http://happilyshanghaied.tumblr.com/post/173012057028/el-ni%C3%B1o) for this fic that you MUST check out.
> 
> Please enjoy the (unbeta'd) next chapter!

Being one of the few men at the playground in the middle of the day, Jughead was used to being ogled by many of the frustrated housewives and nannies. Occasionally, other men showed up to take their children to J.J.’s morning music class, but for the most part, Jughead was the only man in any given playroom. As a male nanny, he was a bit of a unicorn, so he understood the attention he received, even if he didn’t enjoy it.

 

The women were always quick to laugh at his jokes and offered him assistance with things before he could even think to ask, so he couldn’t complain. They were usually harmless, even if some couldn’t or didn’t want to take the hint he wasn’t interested. Jughead just wanted to do his job and go home to his laptop. He didn’t want to be rude, but if his natural tendency to be prickly didn’t drive them away, then they were proceeding at their own risk.

 

One woman, an attractive brunette in hot pink yoga pants, slithered over to the swing set with her toddler son, plopping the child down in the swing seat next to J.J.’s, before grinning at Jughead. “Sure is a hot one today, isn’t it?” She tipped an oversized aluminum water bottle to her painted lips, arching her back in a way that might have been alluring to somebody who had any interest. “You look thirsty.”

 

Jughead inwardly sighed, trying to remain polite, and pointed to his backpack which had two juice boxes precariously balanced on top of it. “We’re good.”

 

“Your child is so beautiful,” The woman said, taking another tact as she gestured to J.J. “Who did he get that fabulous strawberry-blond mane from?” Her eyes fell to Jughead’s naked ring finger.

 

“That’s a great question.” Jughead ran a hand over J.J.’s soft hair and smiled, thinking of the features the little guy shared with Betty. J.J. had his aunt’s large green eyes, a family trait if the old photo on Betty’s bookshelf was anything to go by. She and her sister looked remarkably similar, though – with their icy good looks – the entire Cooper clan may as well have descended from Valhalla. Nowhere, however, had Jughead noticed any red hair, so he assumed J.J. inherited it from his father’s side.

 

The woman tossed her head back and laughed, leaving Jughead to work out what she found so funny.

 

Just as he was about to ask, his best friend, Archie, rolled up wearing the tightest pair of Lycra shorts he had ever seen and a moisture-wicking tank top that looked shellacked on. “What was the big emergency, princess?”

 

Yoga mom’s eyes flicked up to Archie’s red hair, back down to J.J.’s, then finally landed on Jughead, a look of recognition taking over her face. Her expression fell as she looked between the three boys. “Oh. Your family is lovely.”

 

Before Jughead could respond, she lifted her son from his still-moving swing seat and skittered away.

 

“Did she think we were a couple?” Archie asked like it was the best news he’d heard all week.

 

Jughead angled his head closer. “Well, you did refer to me as 'princess'.”

 

“I love New York!” Archie grinned and put his fist out for J.J. to bump. “Ginger power!”

 

The little boy giggled and met Archie’s fist with his own.

 

Archie then turned his fist to Jughead, who promptly ignored it. “So, what’s up, Jug? What’s so important you had to drag me out into this sauna during the hottest part of the day?”

 

”Remember that issue I’m having with my,” Jughead paused to push J.J. forward in the swing and lowered his voice. “My employer?” When no note of understanding registered on Archie’s face, Jughead rolled his eyes and stage-whispered, “I’m talking about Betty, dude.”

 

”Oh! The hot weather girl boss!” Archie all but shouted, turning the heads of a few moms playing with their kids nearby.

 

”That’s reductive, but yes, her.“ Jughead took a breath before he started explaining. “All but one of the A/Cs in the apartment is broken, and it’s starting to get…uncomfortable.”

 

“Aww. You can’t handle a little heat? Go on, take a break.” Archie hip-checked an exhausted-looking Jughead out of the way and took over swing-pushing duty, appearing to have as much fun doing the pushing as J.J. was having riding. “When did you become so fragile? You never complained about the heat when we went camping with my dad during the summers.”

 

“Okay, first, I complained, like, all the time about it, you only listen to half the shit I say.” Jughead lifted a juice box off his backpack, unwrapped the straw and punctured the box’s hole with it. “Second, it’s not the heat that’s the problem — it’s _her_. When she’s not running around with her tight work blouses unbuttoned halfway, she’s wearing a tank top with these…I guess you could call them shorts? No, that would be too generous...” 

 

Jughead paused the swing with his hand and held the box out for J.J. to take a sip, then released the chain.

 

“I’m failing to see the problem, bro. You said she was hot right?” Archie began pushing again. “I assume it’s not a bad view?”

 

“I wish it were a bad view. I’m there to watch her nephew and write my dissertation, but between the heat and her legs, I’m losing my train of thought half the time.” Jughead groaned, resting the juice box on a nearby bench. “She’s just so distracting.”

 

“You’re upset that you live with a distractingly beautiful woman who walks around in tight clothes?” Archie started to laugh. “Maybe, we should go over how you define the word ‘problem’?”

 

Jughead ran his hand through his sweaty hair, making it stick up in every direction. “She’s my boss and I really need the place to crash and the extra cash, at least until the retreat at Sugarloaf in the winter. The last thing I want to do is make her feel uncomfortable because I'm apparently a caveman. I just cannot fuck this living situation up.”

 

“Oh.” Archie smiled, knowingly. “You’re worried you’re going to accidentally have sex with her.”

 

“I mean, I’m not going to trip and accidentally fall _inside_ of her…but you know.” Jughead made a rolling hand motion, not sure, himself, what he even meant by it. “Maybe? Though it’s probably presumptuous of me to assume that somebody like her would ever have any interest in the guy wearing her nephew’s peanut butter hand prints for half the day.”

 

Betty had been nothing but professional since he’d met her. If she did have any sexual interest in him, she certainly never indicated it. There was no reason for Jughead to assume a problem even existed apart from his own rising libido every time Betty walked into a room. He was probably no different than the throngs of men in New York City who drooled over her while watching her weather reports. However, none of those lucky guys had to experience her up close, daily.

 

“I get it,” Archie said, shoving the swing hard. “You don’t want to pounce on her like a jungle cat.”

 

Jughead visibly recoiled. “Pounce on her? I would never pounce on a woman, I’m not some walking 'id'.”

 

“What's an 'id'?” Archie's head cocked to the side like a confused puppy's. “Dude, you have a legendary lack of self-control when it comes to things you like.”

 

Jughead narrowed his gaze. “What are you talking about? No, I don’t!”

 

Archie laughed so hard a nearby baby startled and began to cry. “You once ate, like, six hamburgers in one sitting.”

 

“I was 14! All teenagers eat like factory-farmed livestock.” Jughead threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

 

Archie continued laughing, unabated by Jughead's scowl. “It reminded me of that anaconda documentary you made me watch that one time in high school, you know, the one with the hot chick on the boat?”

 

“Are you referring to the movie ‘Anaconda’, starring Jennifer Lopez and Ice Cube? That documentary?” Jughead’s mood was trapped somewhere between amusement and frustration.

 

“Sure.” Archie continued pushing the swing, blissfully unaware. “Jug, is she even into you? I mean, she’s on T.V. and you have to wear bifocals when you read.”

 

“She’s on the local news, that barely qualifies as T.V., and my glasses are not bifocals. I’m not 70, man.” Jughead unwrapped the other juice box, popped the straw in and sucked half of it down in one sip. “It’s like there’s this weird energy every time she walks into the room. I mean, I guess it could just be in my imagination? It is hot enough in the apartment for a person to hallucinate…”

 

“Okay, you want advice?” Archie gave the swing a large push, then snatched the juice box from Jughead’s hand and finished it with a loud slurp. “Whenever I’m with a woman and need to keep myself from getting too, um, excited?” His eyes darted toward J.J. “I just remind myself of all of the annoying things about her. Everybody has their things, right? Do that whenever you start to feel weak.”

 

Jughead used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the dampness from his face, dropping it quickly when he suddenly felt the group of women’s eyes on him. “I’ve only known her about ten days, but even her flaws seem kind of adorable.”

 

He didn’t need a mirror to know the expression on his face was insanely dopey, Archie’s disgusted frown made it very clear.

 

Archie shook his head, disappointed. “Sounds like you may need to get a new job.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead was on his hands and knees, cleaning up the latest round of meatballs J.J. had thrown on the floor during his regular 6 pm tantrum. The only reason Jughead hadn’t torn his own hair out by this point was that he’d discovered the air was marginally cooler beneath the kitchen table, and the barrage of meatballs being flung across the room gave him an excuse to linger down there a little longer.

 

Just as he was debating the benefits and drawbacks of pressing his face up against the cool oak flooring, the front door slammed open.

 

“Hi!” Betty called out, high heels clicking across the floor in his direction. “I’m—shit.”

 

Jughead turned his head to look over his shoulder and she covered her face with her hands, releasing a strangled noise.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked, worried she may be upset about the mess.

 

She nodded and pressed the heels of her palms more firmly against her eyes. “Yeah, I just, um, forgot something in my desk at work.”

 

“Shit,” J.J. repeated, throwing another meatball at Jughead, hitting him squarely in the chest.

 

Jughead sighed heavily and shot the kid a flat look. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

 

“Shit,” The toddler said again, pushing the entire bowl of food off the table and splattering Jughead’s white tank top with marinara sauce as it crashed to the ground.

 

“Bad, J.J.!” Betty shrieked like she was scolding a dog and a pair of giant eyes gazed up at her, filling with water. “Oh god, don’t cry. Don’t—I didn’t mean to yell, pumpkin.”

 

J.J.’s demeanor shifted rapidly from impish to inconsolable.

 

Betty looked desperately at Jughead for help and urgently whispered, “What do I do?”

 

“Nothing.” Jughead put the broken pieces of crockery in the sink and rinsed off his hands. 

 

“But, he’s—“

 

“This is all an act. You fall for it now and you’re going to have a little monster on your hands.” Jughead placed a hand on J.J.’s head. “Right buddy?”

 

J.J.’s tear-stained face was now almost as red as his hair.

 

Betty looked unsure of this game plan, her hands anxiously curling into fists by her side as she glanced hesitantly between her nephew and Jughead. “I don’t know if I can just ignore this? He looks _so_ sad.”

 

“This is an affectation.” Jughead rolled his eyes, wiping the rest of the mess up with a wad of paper towels and tossing it out in the garbage can, then glanced at the kid. “You’re a talented little actor, aren’t you?”

 

Betty still appeared skeptical, her beautiful features scrunching in sympathetic pain. “But, what if he’s—?“

 

“He’s not.” Jughead raised an eyebrow at Betty. “Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.”

 

He opened the cabinet, pulled out a bag of animal crackers, held them up, and gave them a little shake. “Want cookies, J.J.?”

 

The little boy stopped crying on a dime and squealed, his chubby hands grabbing at the air in excitement. “Animal crackers!”

 

Betty gasped and turned to her nephew with a frown. “You little sneak.”

 

“Told you.” Jughead shrugged, then opened the bag of cookies. “He really doesn’t deserve these, but I feel like kind of an asshole showing them to him and then taking them away.”

 

“Like an asshole!” J.J. repeated, loudly, hands still grabbing at the air.

 

Betty and Jughead exchanged guilty expressions.

 

“We should probably stop swearing like sailors in front of him,” She suggested, trying not to laugh.

 

"Probably," Jughead smirked and held the open bag out to J.J., just out of his reach. “Do you know what you did wrong, you little maniac?”

 

“I throw food.” J.J. grinned at Jughead like he was proud of himself, and Jughead huffed out a breath.

 

Jughead bent down to meet his eye-line. “No more throwing food and I will give you these cookies. Deal?”

 

“Deal!” J.J. opened and closed his hands, urging Jughead forward. "Deal!"

 

Jughead plopped the bag on the table in front of J.J., then looked down at his soiled shirt to assess the damage. “Well, this thing is totaled.”

 

“No,” Betty suddenly jumped into action, plugging the sink drain and filling it with cold water. “Give it here. If we do this quickly, I can still save it.”

 

“It’s white, Betty.”

 

“Don’t believe me?” She asked, echoing his challenge from earlier.

 

Jughead acquiesced and lifted the hem of his tank top, pulling it carefully over his head to avoid getting sauce in his hair, then placed the wadded-up top into Betty’s outstretched hand. “Thanks.”

 

She froze for a moment, then cleared her throat and whipped around to face the sink, her ponytail smacking against her cheek with the motion.

 

The room was now oppressively quiet, other than the soft hiss of the water flowing from the faucet into the basin and the rustle of J.J.’s snack bag as he devoured his cookies.

 

“God, it’s muggy in here, isn’t it?” Betty’s nimble fingers slowly unbuttoned the front of her shirt, then shrugged it gracefully off her shoulders, revealing a silk camisole underneath. She meticulously hung the outer shirt on the back of a nearby chair, then turned her attention back to the sink.

 

Jughead swallowed the lump forming at the base of his throat and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Uh-huh."

  

Betty’s silk camisole was the exact same hue as her pale pink shirt and Jughead’s fingers itched to touch the edge of one of the thin straps. Remembering Archie’s advice to focus on her annoying habits Jughead thought hard to conjure some, but his mind drew a blank. So, he opted for mindless conversation instead. “How was work?”

 

She made a displeased face as she dunked his shirt under water. “It will be nearing the end of the summer soon, which means hurricane season is about to begin. They say it’s going to be bad this year.”

 

They were literally talking about the weather now and Jughead wanted to kill himself.

 

He watched as her arms moved, her shoulder blades rhythmically pressing together as she scrubbed the shirt with baking soda, and quickly averted his eyes. Nobody should be allowed to look that hot doing house chores. “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

 

Betty laughed quietly like she was remembering something from earlier in the day. “El Niño. It takes place irregularly in the Pacific. It’s a result of unusually warm waters off the coast of Peru, but it can create drastic weather events all around the globe.”

 

“How can they tell it's coming?” Jughead remembered learning about El Niño during a middle school project on typhoons but continued asking questions anyway, hoping to keep his focus on the weather rather than the elegant curve of her neck.

 

“A really steamy summer here on the East coast somehow predicts the rising temperature of water 4,000 miles away in the autumn.” She flipped the drain open and turned the water back on, rinsing the material off. “It’s an odd thing, how two seemingly unrelated things are so connected. I don’t really understand the science of it, but luckily the only requirement needed to become a weather girl is the ability to read a teleprompter and a willingness to show your cleavage.”

 

Jughead’s eyes instinctively dropped to her chest, but he managed to tear his gaze away before she noticed. Why did she have to mention cleavage? “At least you have one mystery to keep your mind engaged while you wait for the gig you really want.”

 

Betty turned off the water and began to wring out the shirt. “That’s exactly what I told my friend, Veronica.”

 

“Veronica Lodge?” He asked, remembering the woman who performed the lifestyle segments on Betty’s morning show.

 

“Yes. I’m not surprised you remember her, every man does.” Betty turned around and shook out his shirt, gesturing to where the stain used to be. “Never again underestimate me when it comes to matters of the home, Jughead Jones.”

 

He took the damp shirt from her hands, their fingers brushing awkwardly as she released it into his grip. “Lesson learned.”

 

Her eyes fell to his navel and she bit her lip. “You have—ah—spaghetti sauce on your—” She pulled a dishtowel from the closest cabinet handle and looked to him for an objection before running the cloth down his stomach. “You’ll probably want to take a long shower.”

 

Jughead’s stomach quivered under the weight of her hand and he struggled to speak. “That’s for sure.”

 

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words escaped her lips.

 

Just then, J.J.’s empty bag fluttered to the kitchen floor, and Jughead had never been so grateful for the little guy’s misbehavior. “I should’ve known better than to trust a promise from a person who still eats primarily with their hands.”

 

Betty turned to the child, an indulgent smile on her face. “Not again, J.J.”

 

J.J. looked around the room, feigning innocence, then caught Jughead’s eye and enthusiastically shouted, “Shit!”

 

Jughead laughed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. “Shit, indeed.”

 

* * *

 

After eventually getting a cranky J.J. to sleep, Betty suggested they order a pizza for dinner rather than use the oven and heat the house further.

 

At Betty insistence, Jughead had taken a long shower. He impressively managed to resist bringing himself off at the memory of her wearing the pale, pink camisole. Masturbation was too weird to do with everybody else in the house awake, another thing he hadn’t factored in when he took the job.

 

Both too tired to bother with proper etiquette, they’d opted to eat dinner while sitting on the couch, an oversized pizza box poised on the edge of the coffee table as they inhaled their food. As Jughead finished off the last slice of pizza, Betty lunged for the remote.

 

“Do you mind if I watch a little television? I’ve been dying to see ‘Mindhunter’, but between caring for J.J. alone while also doing my job, I’d been too wiped out before you arrived.” The remote sat in the middle of her hand, her eyes wide and pleading with him as if he could ever bring himself to deny her anything. “If you want to work, I can always just watch it on my laptop with headphones in my room. It’s just, I don’t want to spend 12 hours lying on my bed if I can help it.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, this is your house.” Jughead took the remote from her hand and turned on the television, then switched the setting to Netflix. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to make the time to watch it myself. I loved the book it was based on.”

 

“Of course, you did,” She said, her lips curling into a grin. “A true-crime writer like you, this would be right up your alley.”

 

They sat in companionable silence during the show, both riveted by the action in front of them. Jughead welcomed the respite, the opportunity to get lost in a story and let the woman beside him fade into the background.

 

It was a perfect diversion, until about midway through the first episode when the main character picked up a woman at a club and took her back to his place to fuck her brains out.

 

To call the sex scene graphic would’ve been understating things. The grunts coming from the screen cut through the formerly comfortable quiet like a machete, and Jughead tried to will his penis to stay flaccid. It was like the universe was conspiring against his better nature.

 

Betty shifted on the couch next to him and exhaled noisily. “Wow. Netflix is really trying to give HBO a run for its money, huh? I don’t even think ‘Game of Thrones’ is this…”

 

“Explicit?” Jughead offered, unable to meet her gaze.

 

“Yeah.” Her body shifted its weight again as the woman onscreen grabbed a handful of the main character’s hair and pressed his flushed, sweaty face between her open thighs. “They look as hot as we do," She said, before doing a double-take. "I meant, as overheated. Is, uh, is this supposed to take place in the summer?”

 

“No idea.” Jughead’s jaw tensed painfully as he clenched his back teeth together.

 

Betty continued rambling. “Or, maybe they just look so sweaty because they’re being so, um, active?”

 

_Active?_

 

“Maybe?” Jughead debated slipping between the couch cushions to hide for the rest of eternity.

 

Betty nodded slowly, her eyes locked on the screen. “This sure is a long scene, no?”

 

"Yep."

 

The rest of the episode passed in a blur as Jughead struggled to rid his mind of unwanted thoughts. He would have to research to see what the rest of the show was like because there was no way in hell he could endure 11 more hours of this brand of torture. He didn’t release the breath he was holding until the credits at the end of the episode began to roll.

 

“What did you think of the show?” He asked.

 

“I loved it,” Betty said, eyes lifting shyly to his. “Forensic psychology was really the Wild West back then. Hard to believe this was only the late 70’s.”

 

Jughead smiled, happy for the conversation to venture into safer waters. “Did you know you can watch Holden's original serial killer interviews online?”

 

“Seriously?” Her eyes grew large and animated as she grabbed tightly on to his arm. “We’re definitely doing that!”

 

His skin was on fire where her hand connected with his wrist and he roughly pulled it away, earning a puzzled look from her.

 

“I didn’t mean—it’s just your hand is easily a hundred degrees Fahrenheit,” He said, grimacing at his own weakness.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Betty looked down at her palm, then pressed it to her cheek to test its heat against her own skin. “It’s hard for me to tell how warm I am anymore when the baseline temperature in here is like the 7th circle of hell.”

 

“You read Dante?”

 

Besides being gorgeous, Betty was intelligent, kind, and interesting. Jughead was now at the point where he was cursing her very existence. Every time she opened her mouth she became incrementally more attractive to him and it was becoming a problem. 

 

“Of course, I have.” She laughed, feigning annoyance at his look of surprise. “I have a master’s degree from Columbia University, you know? Don’t let the green screens and low-cut blouses fool you.”

 

“Oh god, I didn’t mean to imply you were stupid.” He groaned and wiped a hand over his face to block out his faux pas. “I was only surprised—I just meant, it’s rare these days I meet people who are so well-read, especially in the classics.”

 

Her expression softened into something more teasing and light as she leaned in a little closer. At this distance, Jughead could smell the lingering scent of her coconut shampoo and notice the flecks of blue dotting her bright green irises.

 

“Maybe, you’re not as unique as you think?” She whispered, punctuating the thought with a wink.

 

He aggressively focused all his attention on the empty pizza box to keep himself from doing something stupid. “Maybe, I’m not.”

 

Betty leaned back and lifted herself from the couch, standing ramrod-straight above him, her shoulders appearing tight with tension. “I’m going to get some sleep. This was…the show was pretty great.”

 

“It  _was_  great,” Jughead agreed, finally working up the nerve to make eye contact with her. “I’m actually dying to know what happens next.”

 

“Me too!” Her face lit up with anticipation, lifting Jughead's mood with it.

 

“Maybe..if you’re not called into work for an emergency, we could start a binge-watch tomorrow?” He hoped it didn't sound like he was asking her to ‘Netflix and Chill’, but there really wasn’t another way of phrasing it that would come off any less slimy.

 

Her shoulders relaxed at his suggestion and she nodded eagerly. “Definitely.”

 

Jughead was pleased she didn't interpret the suggestion as a come on.

 

“Goodnight Betty,” He said, lifting the pizza box from the table to put in the recycling bin.

 

“Goodnight, Jughead,” She answered softly, then turned and left for her bedroom.

 

Watching ‘Minhunter’ on the same sofa as Betty may have been the dumbest move Jughead ever made, and he had never hated David Fincher more.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heat sure is making them thirsty, huh? I'm sorry I only gave you UST instead of smut, but these two kids have got to earn their sex. Incidentally, 'Mindhunter' really is that sexy and I highly recommend you watch.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of it! Thanks again for all of the encouragement!
> 
> Now...back to grad school. I plan to update soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. I'm so sorry for the delay. I had a week of grad finals and then that shared brother/Betty lying/Jughead abandoning Betty episode happened and I kind of lost the will to write Bughead for a while. 
> 
> But, then I did a S1 rewatch and I got my mojo back. Needless to say, I don't see myself rewatching S2 any time soon. I hope the writers can get these characters back on track and give them some more positive relationship screentime.
> 
> Anyhoo-- your comments have BLOWN ME AWAY! Honestly, you are all so funny that the El Nino comments section could be its own fanfic. Thank you so much for the crazy amount of love you've given me, it's definitely been a motivating factor in getting me back to the computer.
> 
> Unbeta'd as always, so beware of mistakes.
> 
> The sexy rating goes up this chapter!

Betty’s hands moved rhythmically in front of a green screen highlighting a coming warm front like a game show prize model. She’d just come off a two-week reprieve where the heat had been temporarily broken by a spate of torrential rain. Though stuck with Jughead in the apartment more than usual, she was at least happy it had been cool enough for him to keep all his clothes on. Now, unfortunately, the personal boundaries they’d carefully constructed over the last fortnight would be shed again, right along with his outer clothing.

 

“And that, sadly, is the forecast for the weekend, so keep out of the direct sun as much as you can and remember to hydrate. Stay cool, New Yorkers, and have a wonderful night.”

 

Reggie Mantle, the show’s nightly news anchor, and Betty’s one-time fling shot her a wry smile. “Some of us don’t have to try to stay cool, Betty.”

 

“I assume you’re talking about me?” Betty's hands were on her hips, her eyelashes batting in a cringe-inducing facsimile of lighthearted flirting.

 

Reggie laughed and flashed his perfect smile to the camera. “Of course, Coop. Who else would I be talking about?”

 

“I can’t imagine, Reg.” She said, faking a laugh.

 

Reggie turned back to camera one and finished off his report as Betty sagged against the green screen wall off-lens. 

 

“Well that’s it for us this evening,” He said. “Have a great weekend and we will see you back here bright and early Monday morning.”

 

The light on the cameras went dark and Betty collapsed into the nearest chair to relieve some of the foot pain she was suffering from due to standing in heels for two hours straight. From across the set, Betty could feel Reggie looking her over with familiar interest. 

 

“Got plans this evening, Betty?” He asked, rolling over to her side of the set on his office chair.

 

His gaze dropped to her bare legs and she crossed them at the ankles. “Just spending some time with my nephew.”

 

His brow furrowed in confusion for a beat before realization set in. “Oh! Right. You’re still doing that?” 

 

“If by ‘that’, you’re referring to raising a child, then yes, I’m still doing that.” 

 

A wide grin split Reggie’s face. “You know this kind of makes you a MILF, right?”

 

She laughed, despite her better instincts telling her not to indulge Reggie’s flirting. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

 

“Well, it’s definitely crossed my mind. Many times,” He said, scooting his chair closer to her. “In fact, I was thinking we could—”

 

“Let me stop you there.” Betty held her hand up to keep him from talking. “The time we spent together was, uh, interesting, but I don’t really think we’re all that compatible.”

 

“Compatible?” Reggie repeated the word like he was sounding out a foreign phrase. “I’m not suggesting we get married, babe, I just thought you might like a repeat of the coat room at the office Christmas party.”

 

“I was drunk, Reggie.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t drunk at the anti-Valentine’s Day get-together you organized.”

 

She raised an eyebrow to match his. “Well, I certainly got drunk _afterward_.”

 

Reggie smirked, the jibe having all the impact of a foam dart. “I didn’t realize I had that kind of effect on you.”

 

Betty rolled her eyes and pulled herself from the chair to stand on tender feet, then playfully smacked his arm. “This was fun. See you Monday, Reg.”

 

“That’s cool. Keep the rejection coming, Cooper, I enjoy a challenge,” He shouted after her as she retreated toward the green room.

 

Betty turned the corner and pressed her forehead into the nearest wall with a groan.

 

“If he’s bothering you, I can always arrange for him to 'have an accident',” a voice mentioned, nearby. “Mess up that pretty face.”

 

Betty turned around at the offer. “I’ll bet he insured his face or something. Beating him up would probably only make him richer and more unbearable.”

 

Toni Topaz, the camerawoman assigned to Betty’s desk, crossed the hallway and rested a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t look so hot.”

 

“What every woman wants to hear after she’s just spent the last two hours being live broadcasted to thousands of homes.”

 

Toni shook her lightly. “Don’t be an idiot, you’re always beautiful. You’re just looking a bit green around the gills is all.”

 

“I feel fine, I just didn’t get a ton of sleep last night. J.J. had the stomach flu and we were up taking turns with him.” Betty smiled softly at the memory of Jughead sleeping curled around her nephew in his toddler bed. 

 

“I often get a dreamy look when discussing vomit.” Toni leveled Betty with a knowing look. “Oh, I get it. That hot piece living with you set your ovaries all aflame by taking good care of the kid, huh?”

 

Betty covered her face with her hands, not even bothering to play it cool. After six weeks of living together, she’d given up all pretense of control when it came to Jughead. “I’m sure I only want him because he’s off limits.”

 

“Yeah, it probably had nothing to do with that fact that he’s good-looking, kind, smart, and shares all of your same interests.” Toni was doing a terrible job of trying not to laugh. “Look, I always say the best way to get over somebody is to get  _under_  somebody else.”

 

“That’s what Ronnie says.”

 

“I’ll bet she does.” A shadow crossed Toni’s expression, she was clearly still bitter about her own drunk Christmas party hookup. “Anyway, I had plans for drinks with Raj and Trev after work, if you want to join?”

 

“Raj  _and_  Trev?” Betty asked, suitably impressed.

 

Raj ran the late night segments on local politics, where he fielded live callers’ often idiotic questions with the kind of patience that Betty assumed could only be achieved through deep meditation. Trevor, the sports correspondent, was easily the most liked person on set, his quick smile charming even the most grisled of the equity crew. Both men were beautiful, but neither was Jughead.

 

Toni shrugged. “Couldn’t decide if I was in the mood for Indian or Soul Food.”

 

“Oh my god, Toni. Do they know they've got competition or are you just going to ambush them by showing up with a second date?” Betty had always been envious of Toni’s unabashed ability to go after whatever she wanted. 

 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to show up alone.” Toni gave Betty a pointed look. “I’d even let you take first pick.”

 

“I—I don’t know.” A pang of nausea gripped Betty at the idea of hooking up with somebody who wasn’t her nanny, but she determinately pushed that feeling away. “I kind of promised Jughead we’d finish the first season of ‘True Detective’ tonight.”

 

Toni let out a primal groan. “Girl, you need to decide: either fuck him or forget him. You can’t let a guy cramp your style who's not even giving it to you.”

 

Betty knew her friend was right, and since she couldn’t fuck Jughead, she had to do something to get her mind off the forbidden fruit. “Okay. I’ll go.”

 

Toni clapped her hands together once as her face lit up. “That’s what I’m talking about! I’ll go tell the boys you’re in.”

 

“I’ll…call my nanny and let him know I’ll be home a little later, I guess…” Betty murmured to herself as Toni spun away from her with the speed of a dervish.

 

Betty dug her phone out of her jacket pocket, pulled up her favorites list, pressed the number at the top, and waited for Jughead to answer.

 

“Hey, you,” Jughead spoke quietly, though Betty could still hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Hi.” Betty took a moment to steel her nerves, and then another one questioning why she was dreading this conversation so much. She was single, and the feelings she had were probably one-sided and definitely inappropriate. She was also Jughead's employer, and It shouldn’t matter to him one way or the other if she went out on a date with a guy. It wasn’t like there was anything between them. “How’s J.J. holding up?”

 

“He seems on the mend. I gave him some apple juice and chicken broth a few hours ago and he managed to keep it down, so I think we’ll try some plain toast in a bit.”

 

Betty breathed out in relief, glad she wouldn't have to watch her little nephew suffer much longer. “Is he awake?”

 

Jughead’s low chuckle went straight to her groin. “No. I read him part of my dissertation earlier, he was out like a light in less than ten minutes. I’m not sure if I should be offended by that or not.”

 

“I wouldn’t be,” She said, imagining the soft lines of her nephew’s sweet face as he slept. “I'd be more offended if he liked it. J.J.’s taste in media trends toward the pedestrian.”

 

“Yeah, so I gathered when he threw up on my lap after I mentioned our ‘True Detective’ marathon to him. Speaking of which, I ordered a few pizzas for us tonight, because - much like pizza - 'time is a flat circle’,” He drawled, sounding uncannily like Matthew McConaughey playing Rust Cohle.

 

An unfamiliar feeling churned in Betty’s gut. Was it guilt? “I, ah, about that…I was wondering if we could do a rain check for tomorrow night?”

 

“Is there a storm brewing on the horizon?” He quipped. "Should I batten down the hatches?"

 

“No, it’s not work keeping me late,” Betty's palm was sweaty, so she shifted the phone into her other hand. “I was invited out.”

 

“Ooh, hot date?” Jughead asked, a note of mirth leaking into his tone. The silence following his question was practically deafening. When Betty didn’t answer right away, he cleared his throat. “Oh.”

 

Betty squirmed, wanting to say something - anything - that could erase the disappointment from his voice but kept drawing a blank. She reminded herself that the point of this date was to create some professional distance at home, that this was the what she wanted. “I’m not sure when I’ll be home, so don’t wait up.”

 

“I won’t,” He said, pausing for a moment before signing off. “Have a good time, Betty.”

 

The line went dead and Betty squashed the urge to toss the phone against the wall in protest.

 

* * *

 

Dinner and drinks had been fun, with both boys proving themselves lively company, but Betty had been too distracted to fully engage. She excused herself early, citing her tiredness from J.J’s illness, and made her way home.

 

It was nearly 11 pm as she opened the front door and came upon a scene that tugged at the very core of her. Jughead was asleep on the couch, J.J. passed out directly on top of him, the little boy’s blankie sandwiched between them. 

 

It had been a hard few months for her nephew, first with his mother abandoning him followed closely by his grandmother’s hip injury. Too much had changed for him in such a short time. His tantrums initially had been frequent and often, but he seemed to calm during the last few weeks under Jughead’s care, returning to the naturally happy boy Betty knew him as.

 

This, alone, was reason enough not to pursue anything romantic with Jughead. If things didn’t work out, J.J. could lose another person who was important to him and Betty would never risk that. Not for her own selfish desires.

 

She approached the couch and bent over to stroke her nephew’s silky hair.

 

“How was your date?” Jughead asked in a whisper.

 

Betty startled, having assumed he was asleep. “It wasn’t a date.”

 

He cupped the back of J.J.’s head and lifted him in his arms as he stood. “You said it was a date.”

 

She shook her head, following Jughead as he carried her nephew into his bedroom. “No, _you_  said it was a date.”

 

“You didn’t correct me.” He looked intently at her through the dim light of the room, then lowered the boy into his toddler bed and planted a kiss on his hair.

 

“I--okay. It might've been a date,” She admitted, following Jughead’s kiss with her own, then tucked the covers around J.J.'s small shoulders. 

 

“Sounds like you had a blast.” Jughead brushed past her on his way out of the bedroom, leaving her standing alone and shocked. She wondered for a moment if this was jealousy or if she was just imaging the whole thing.

 

When she made it back into the living room, Jughead was already unleashing his Murphy bed from the wall.

 

“You’re going to sleep so soon?” She asked, disappointment welling in her chest. “I thought maybe we could—”

 

He was too busy arranging his linens to look at her. “I’m sorry, Betty, but it's been a really long day. I'm just not in the mood.” 

 

Unease gnawed at the thread of her composure like a persistent moth. “You don’t have the energy for even one episode?” She hated how thin and strained her voice sounded to her own ears. “It’s just…I didn’t have much fun tonight and I could really use something to take my mind off it.”

 

His head jerked around to face her again, eyes wide with what looked like surprise. “You didn’t…it wasn’t fun?”

 

“It was  _fine_  but,” she took a small step forward and angled her head toward the couch, “I just kept thinking about how much I would’ve preferred to be here.”

 

The duvet Jughead was unfolding dropped from his hands into a clump. “Oh. Well...I wouldn’t want you to end the night on a bad note.”

 

“Really?” Betty should’ve been embarrassed by the eagerness in her voice, but she was too relieved by the happy look on his face to care. 

 

He made a detour on his way toward the couch, collecting two glasses and a bottle of wine they’d opened the other night. “I think I can manage to stay awake for just one, seeing as you had such a lousy time tonight.” 

 

An amused smiled tugged at the corners of his mouth and Betty bit back the urge to kiss him. “Lousy is a bit of an overstatement.”

 

“Well, I can always go to bed if you don’t need the pick-me-up?” He stood in front of her, clutching the bottle to his chest. "Did you have a lousy time or not?"

 

They stared at each other, like a game of poker, daring the other to call.

 

Betty folded first and reached for the bottle. “Super lousy.”

 

Without any more preamble, they settled in for the show, sitting closer than ever had before, his thigh pressed up against the length of hers, shoulders brushing with each drawn breath.

 

“Have you ever felt this desperate before?” He whispered, pointing at the screen where Cohle was currently wrestling with his feelings for his partner’s wife.

 

“For a person or in general?” She whispered back.

 

When he turned his head, his eyes glowed iridescent in the neon cast of the screen. “A person.”

 

She swiveled to face him. “Have you?”

 

He swallowed loudly, then huffed out a small laugh. “Maybe? Maybe, I have.”

 

Just then, Rust Cohle grabbed Margaret Hart, backing her into the kitchen counter. They attacked each other’s mouths hungrily, frantically tugging at their clothes until Rust roughly spun her around and pressed into her from behind. He braced his arm across Margaret's neck, restricting her airflow as he pounded into her. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, face a mask of pure ecstasy as he took her.

 

Betty felt all the air leave her body, eyes riveted to the scene. She couldn’t look away from it, afraid of what she might allow herself to do if she caught Jughead’s gaze. Suddenly, all the places where her skin touched his burned hot with an undefinable need. 

 

Jughead exhaled loudly and she could feel him intently watching her out of the corner of his eye. “These shows are really—”

 

“Yeah.” Betty cut him off before he could finish, afraid of where he might take the thought. Her mind flashed to the memory of her nephew curled up so contentedly on Jughead’s chest and she rose from the couch, determined not to risk ruining J.J.'s life. “I’m not—I think I need to go to bed. I’m starting to feel a little off.” 

 

He stared flatly at her for a moment, before his expression contorted. “You feel  _off_?”

 

“Yes. I’m so sorry.” She forced herself to turn from him and began to walk away, only to feel a tug pull her back as she tried to leave.

 

“Betts—” His grip on her hand was firm and it took all her resolve not to press his arm to her neck like Margaret and Cohle. “If you need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

 

It was very clear to her from the intensity in his gaze that he wasn’t just talking about fetching her a glass of water. 

 

Betty nodded her head once. “Thank you, Juggie.”

 

* * *

 

It turned out that Betty needed him sooner than she thought as she woke a few hours later in a cold sweat, stomach wracked with painful cramps.

 

She stumbled toward the bathroom and the world tilted, her side clumsily connecting with the door frame as she lunged out of her room. She cried out at the blow but continued her journey despite the ache in her hip, reaching the toilet just in time to empty her stomach.

 

“Betty?”

 

Betty could hear him calling her name, but was too weak to answer back. The bathroom door creaked open and a sigh escaped his lips. “You were actually feeling ill, I thought—” 

 

He dropped the thought in lieu of pulling a washcloth from the linen cabinet and running it under cold water.

 

She felt her hair being tied back into a bun and secured with one of the hair clips from the cabinet drawer, then a cool swipe of cloth across her sweaty brow. 

 

“Juggie?” She whispered, weakly, unsure of what she was even asking him for.

 

“I’m here.” He pressed the washcloth to the side of her neck and she whimpered in relief. “You can relax, I’ve got you.”

 

He remained on the floor with her for the next 90 minutes, supporting her from behind when she needed to vomit, sponging her fever for comfort. When her stomach was finally spent and she barely had enough energy to lift her head, he gathered her up in his arms and carried her into her bedroom. The last fleeting thought that crossed her mind - that what she felt was more than just attraction - vanished into the ether as the urge to sleep became too heavy to resist.

 

* * *

 

Betty woke with a start, her body aching with soreness, head cushioned by something warm and firm.

 

She braced one hand on the bed and turned to look, just as a palm ran down the length of her spine in a calming gesture.

 

“Are you feeling sick again?” Jughead asked, appearing as tired as she felt. “I can get the trash can—”

 

She shook her head slowly, still a little dazed, and felt his chest muscles tense under her cheek. “Water?”

 

He frowned and reached for a nearby water bottle. “You can only have a tiny sip. If it doesn’t come back up in the next ten minutes you can have more.

 

She nodded, eager for anything that would soothe her parched throat.

 

He gently lifted her from behind to a sitting position, brought the bottle to her lips and reminded her, “Only a mouthful.”

 

Betty filled her mouth with water, swishing it around a bit before swallowing it slowly. “Thank you.”

 

He smiled and placed the bottle on the edge of the dresser, then brushed her matted hair from her face before encouraging her to lay back down. “Now, we wait for the moment of truth.”

 

She looked up at him, a lock of his hair falling across the strong bridge of his nose, and her stomach began to twist for very different reasons than before.

 

* * *

 

Thanks to tropical storm Juanita, which pelted the entire Northeast with a straight week of rain, Betty had spent most of her days at the station. Though she felt worked to the bone, the silver lining was that she hadn’t be forced to confront the inconvenient feelings she was developing for Jughead.

 

When she and Jughead did see each other, his presence was insistent, the pull of it almost demanding. He filled every room he occupied like a grand orchestra. She found herself unconsciously gravitating toward him in the house. Whether jockeying for sink space to brush their teeth or preparing a meal, Jughead always seemed to be underfoot. And when he looked at her, she thought she noticed a softness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

 

Betty had no idea what do do with her feelings, so she did what Coopers always did and placed them in a steel box, setting them high on an unreachable shelf.

 

“Juanita sucks,” Reggie grumbled, frowning, as he threw a rubber ball against the false set wall during the commercial break.

 

“Try being the weather girl.” Betty slid further down in the chair they’d given her during breaks. “Toni and I have to actually go out in this mess pretty soon for a live report.”

 

“Don’t tell me you two are too weak to handle a strong Latina,” Veronica called out from the smaller set where she had draped herself across two chairs.

 

“The storm is not a sentient being, Vee, hence, it cannot be Latina or any other ethnicity,” Betty shot back, wondering how she got roped into having the same argument for the third time today.

 

“Why can’t you just let me have this?” Veronica fell dramatically back into a reclining pose, like a modern-day Greta Garbo. After eight hours straight in the studio, they were all losing their minds a bit. 

 

Reggie swiveled his chair to face Betty. “Come on, let her have this one, Coop, before I rip my own ears off and throw them at you as punishment.”

 

Betty raised her hands in surrender. “Fine. I mean, it’s patently incorrect, but whatever.”

 

Toni appeared on set with the stealth of an apparition suited up entirely in rain gear, a plastic storm kit encasing the portable video camera she had strapped to her chest. “You ready to get wet with me, Betty?”

 

“She’s been wet all week. Have you met the manny yet?” Veronica asked, a note of glee entering her voice.

 

Toni turned to Betty and licked her lips. “I may have seen some pictures.”

 

“Trust me, they don’t do him justice. He’s working that sexy, nerd aesthetic like he invented the damn thing.” Veronica waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I, of course, am the one who hired him."

 

“You’re banging your  _manny_?” Reggie’s expression screwed up in a way that always implied he was about to unleash  a torrent of bullshit. “If I’d known you were into role play, I could’ve taken care of your needs ages ago. What exactly is it about mannies that turns you on? Is it the Baby Bjorn? The backpack filled with sippy cups and goldfish packets? Would it get you going if I pretended I didn’t have a ‘green card’? _Oh my God_ , does he even have a ‘‘green card’? You’re not harboring a fugitive and blackmailing him into being your sex slave so he can stay in the country, are you, Betty? I hope to hell you're still on The Pill or he's going to try and put an anchor baby in you.”

 

“I'm still on the goddamn birth control pill, okay Reggie?” Betty shot back, feeling her hackles rise.

 

Toni snorted a laugh. “That was the thing you felt needed to be addressed first?”

 

“Right.” Betty bit her lip and turned back to Reggie. “Also, my nanny was born in New York and I'm not 'banging' him.”

 

Reggie’s well-maintained smile took up his entire face. “But you wanna bang the help, don't you? You know, it's about 20 years too early for you to become a middle-aged mom cliché, right?”

 

“Can you magpies shut the fuck up?” Kevin Keller, the show’s director, shouted through the intercom system. “We’re live in ten.”

 

Betty shot Reggie the bird and followed Toni to the dressing room to change into her field wardrobe.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they’d finished their four segments from Battery Park, Betty was soaked to the bone. She considered changing her clothes again like she had after their second report, but that outfit had been thoroughly drenched within the first few minutes she’d worn it so she didn’t really see the point.

 

She fought to keep her eyes open as the studio driver drove her back uptown to her apartment. All she had done the entire way home was fantasize about taking a hot bath, downing a spiked mug of cocoa, then enjoying a night of blissful sleep. Maybe this was why she was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted her when she opened the door?

 

Betty quietly opened the door to the house and immediately noticed Jughead’s silhouette. He was sitting in the dark on the edge of his bed, breathing hard, his head tossed back in pleasure as his hand moved beneath the band of his boxers. She watched him for a moment, fascinated, wondering what or who he thought about when he was bringing himself off. If she wasn’t awake before, she sure as hell was now.

 

A bolt of lightning illuminated the room, alerting him to her presence. 

 

“Betty,” Jughead breathed out in shock, pulling his hands from his pants, and Betty was oddly disappointed. “I’m—I wasn’t expecting—”

 

“You didn’t have to stop,” She said, failing to filter her thoughts. 

 

As he rose to his feet, an unreadable expression on his face, she was gripped by a sudden panic. She may have just imploded her nephew's life with five stupid words.

 

“Did you just—what did you just say?” He was staring openly at her now and Betty was suddenly self-conscious, knowing how her wet clothes clung to every curve of her frame.

 

Whatever was happening between them had obviously reached its breaking point.

 

She’d been thinking about Jughead all day - particularly during stressful moments - even the memory of him calming her nerves. Betty was a strong woman, somebody who was used to depriving herself of things she enjoyed. She knew she could resist him if she needed to. However, about an hour into her field shoot, she began to wonder if she had the entire thing all wrong. Maybe she was weak for resisting him, for not taking the chance to see if they could become something great? She had never put more energy into something than keeping herself away from him.

 

“I said...” Betty took a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “Don’t stop.”

 

His eyes darkened at her words, just as the room shook with the echo of thunder. “Come here.”

 

His order stirred something within her and she abruptly dropped her bag to the floor, then started crossing the room, approaching him slowly like a cat stalking its prey. 

 

“That’s close enough,” He said, having her pause a few feet from him. “Is this really what you want?”

 

Betty nodded subtly, her breath picking up as he slipped his hand into his boxers again.

 

"Okay." He worked himself up quickly, his eyes never leaving hers as he brought himself to the edge.

 

“Stop,” Betty requested, and his hand stilled. “Let me finish.” 

 

She closed the distance between them and gingerly pushed her fingers past his waistband, covering his hand with her own. They were close enough to share the same breath now, and he shook his head slightly as if trying to determine whether any of this was real.

 

“Betty,” Jughead croaked out, as she tightened her hand around his. 

 

“I want to touch you. Is that okay?”

 

He smirked at her question and removed his hand from his pants. “I was thinking about you, and…and you just walked in the door like I conjured you here. I’m not entirely sure I’m not asleep and dreaming this.”

 

She gripped him at the base of his cock and he jerked against her hold. “Does this feel real?”

 

Jughead groaned and dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Hell. Yes.”

 

She moved slowly at first, testing the length and weight of him in her hand, her wet fingers sliding across warm velvet.

 

“I’m not going to last,” He gasped, a gust of hot breath on her neck causing a rash of goosebumps. “I was already on the edge before you even walked in.”

 

“You feel good.” She was picking up speed now, her thumb nudging the head of his cock with each upstroke, pulling noises from him she had only ever imagined in her fantasies.

 

His hips began thrusting forward, greedily seeking more contact as he pushed himself roughly into her hand.

 

“So do you.” His voice was tight now, and she was certain that he was barely hanging on. “God, Betty.”

 

“Shh,” She whispered, her lips pressed into his hair. “You can relax. I’ve got you.”

 

He came wetly into her hand with a grunt, his stubble scratching against the side of her neck as the aftershocks hit his body.

 

They remained frozen in their awkward embrace - her hand wrapped around his softening cock with his head on her shoulder - as they both calmed themselves down.

 

“You’re amazing.” He said, and she could feel him smile against her skin. “And it’s not that I’m not grateful, but I do have questions.”

 

“Like what?” She whispered, playing coy.

 

“Well, I guess the first one is whether or not I can touch you, too? Because there’s nothing I want to do more than to take my tongue and run it down—”

 

“I’m thirsty,” a tiny voice called out from across the room, and Betty’s heart jumped into her throat.

 

“Shit,” She mumbled under her breath as she carefully and covertly extracted her damp hand from inside Jughead’s boxers, then looked over her shoulder at J.J. “Go back to bed, pumpkin, and I’ll bring you some water.”

 

“But, I want water now,” J.J. said, whining pitifully.

 

“I’ve got this,” Jughead told her, pausing to brush his nose against her cheek before pulling back. “You probably need to get cleaned up.” He beckoned J.J. over to the fridge and handed him a clean plastic mug to press against the spigot. “You know how this works, kid.”

 

Betty looked at the mess in her hand and curled her hand into a fist, trapping most of it in her palm. “I’m just going to hit the hay,” She said, and rushed toward her bedroom, knowing she'd find a look of bewilderment if she dared to look back.

 

“Betty?” Jughead called after her in question, but J.J. soon demanded his focus as the little one began to complain about the loud thunder.

 

* * *

 

Betty had barely shut the door to her bedroom before she shoved her hand down her own pants, using his cum as lubricant to smooth the way.

 

She bit her lip at the sudden intrusion, anticipating the slight sting from pressing two fingers into herself without warming up, but Jughead’s slick dripped down her fingers and quickly soothed the burn. Betty wasn’t sure what had come over her. This was so dirty and wrong, but she shuddered at the knowledge that she now had part of him inside of her.

 

Her head smacked against the door with a light thump as she worked herself faster, adding a thumb to press small circles against her clit. She tried to stay silent, but she was too keyed up to control herself, so she imagined Jughead’s fingers sliding into her mouth, his arm leaning against her neck - like Rust Cohle’s against Margaret’s - the pressure of it forcing her to stay quiet.

 

Betty’s orgasm caught her by surprise, shooting through her body like a bolt of lightning, as she shook against the door frame.

 

She pulled her hand from her panties and held it open, turned on by the evidence of both their arousal painted across her palm.

 

If this was the kind of depravity Jughead inspired from only a handjob, she worried what more the dark side of her nature had in store for her in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Betty's a little kinky. Hope that wasn't too weird for you. If you've read my other work, you already know what you're getting into. If not...(devil emoji)
> 
> Thanks again for all of the creative comments and kudos. I really have the best readers on AO3! I'm still a tiny bit behind on replying to comments, but I will definitely get to you.
> 
> If you have the time and the energy to leave a review, please hit up the comments section and let me know what you thought of the chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. If you've come for angst and smut, you're in the right place.
> 
> As always, this chapter is unbeta'd so please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> PS- HAPPY MOTHERS DAY!!

Jughead sat on the walkway that bisected the child climbing pit from the trampoline floor at J.J.’s toddler gym, intently watching the entrance door.

 

Since the moment Betty escaped to her bedroom last night, Jughead had been crawling out of his skin. Once he’d gotten J.J. back into bed, he stood outside of her door for ten minutes, debating whether he should knock. Ultimately, cowardice won out and he decided against it. If she ran away from him, she must’ve had her reasons, and he wasn’t about to be pushy or try to pressure her into anything she didn’t want to do.

 

Betty may have regretted what happened, or perhaps she was embarrassed? Jughead was sure she shared many of the same fears he had, worrying that pursuing anything romantic with her could cause an imbalance in the delicate ecosystem they’d designed at home. Either way, her immediate absence did not indicate anything good. 

 

But, God, how he  _wanted_  her.

 

The sound of Archie shrieking “Ball Pit!” startled Jughead, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

 

“Jesus, Archie, I didn’t see you come in.” Jughead pressed a hand to his chest as his heart practically burst through his rib cage.

 

“I’m the only man in here other than you, your situational awareness needs work.” Archie kicked off his shoes and threw himself sideways into the pit with the level of abandon Jughead couldn’t even muster in childhood. Not for the first time, Jug envied Archie’s simplistic existence and how everything seemed to come to him without much effort.

 

Jughead flashed back to when he and Archie were kids, and Archie had come upon him getting showered in the school locker room, immediately sensing something was off. The speed and enthusiasm in which Archie offered Jughead a place to stay as if it were the obvious answer to his very complicated problem, had struck Jughead as the height of naïvete. To Archie, life was simple: you need a place to live, you find a place to live - and everything else will fall into place. The ramifications of those choices never seemed to factor into the decision-making process.

 

As somebody who hadn’t led a charmed life, Jughead weighed every decision carefully and always pretty much expected the worst outcome. He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring the possible fallout.

  

Archie’s head popped up from the pit and he awkwardly waded through the foam. “This is awesome! Why don’t they have these kinds of places for adults? Big kids like to play, too.”

 

Jughead shrugged because Archie was a little bit right. It wouldn’t kill adults to take everything a little less seriously. “We can book your next birthday party here.”

 

Archie’s face lit up at the prospect, then promptly fell. “I'm guessing they don’t allow beer?”

 

“Nope. And believe me, I could really use one.”

 

Archie leaned over the edge of the pit and frowned. “This is another hot boss emergency, isn’t it? Dude, why don’t you just fuck her and get it out of your system? You can just get a new job and place to live.”

 

Jughead softly laughed at Archie’s predictability.

 

A few feet away, a mother cupped her hands over her daughter’s ears, shot them a dirty look, and scurried away.

 

“Oops?” Archie covered his mouth with his hand. Jughead was happy that Archie at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

 

“That’s the thing, Arch. Last night, we kind of did have…a  _playdate_.” Jughead wrinkled his nose at the ridiculous word choice, but his hands were somewhat tied by the toddlers around them. “Sort of, or I did, at least.”

 

Archie appeared confused, which did not surprise Jughead in the least. “I literally have no idea what you’re trying to say, man.”

 

Jughead scrubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Why the hell did he think was a good idea? “Last night, Betty came home and walked in on me while I was playing solo,” he looked around nervously for signs of children listening.

 

Archie’s face scrunched in thought. “Solitaire?”

 

“I was masturbating!” Jughead hissed loudly in frustration, attracting the attention of a Jamaican babysitter, who shook her head at him in disbelief. “You’re going to get us banned from this place, Archie.”

 

“I’m not the one talking about touching myself in a room filled with three-year-olds,” He shot back.

 

”Fair point.” Jughead was officially more impulsive than Archie now, he had to get it together. “Betty walked in on me last night while I was doing...what I just said.”

 

Jughead finally had Archie’s full attention. “Woah. Did she freak out?”

 

“Not exactly. She...asked if she could help.” Jughead looked up hesitantly and braced himself for Archie’s reaction. 

 

“Daaaamn,” Archie whispered, reverently, after he got over the initial shock. “I assume you let her? Was it good?”

 

Jughead wasn’t sure he could put into words how hot the experience was for him, how having Betty get him off with her hand was sexier than most of the actual sex he’d had in his life, so he just emphatically nodded. “But right when I, uh, finished, we got interrupted by J.J.”

 

”Shit.” Archie’s eyes grew wide. “Did he see anything?”

 

“No. He just wanted a glass of water, but by the time I got it for him Betty had bolted and locked herself in her bedroom.”

 

“You’re worried she regrets it?” Archie had a knack of surprising Jughead with his intuitiveness when he least expected it.

 

“She was gone before I woke up, way earlier than she normally leaves the house. I’m worried I’ve fucked everything up.”

 

“What?” Archie shook his head. “No. No, bro, she came onto you.”

 

“And then I  _came_   _on her_ ,” Jughead pointed out, feeling shameful about Betty’s rejection. “I thought...I don’t know what I thought, but I clearly made the wrong choice - maybe it was just bad for her or she thought my dick looked strange - all I know is she now wants nothing to do with me.”

 

“You ever think she’s having the same thoughts? That she’s feeling a little embarrassed about jumping her nanny and thinks you might be weirded out by her?”

 

“Why would she think that? I didn’t run away from her, she left me!” Jughead collapsed backward on the spongy mat and stared at the gridiron rafters. “I need this job and this apartment, but more than that I think I might need...her?” Admitting his feelings aloud was like letting some of the air out of an overfilled balloon. “I might be falling for her, and I’ve already managed to lose her. That’s got to be some kind of record for me.”

 

Archie pulled himself out of the pit and laid down on the mat next to Jughead. “I want to meet her.”

 

“Why?” Jughead asked with suspicion, whipping his head to the side to glare at Archie. “I just told you she wants nothing to do with me. Odds are, I won’t even be living there much longer anyway.”

 

“Come on, that’s bullshit and you know it. That kid loves you,” Archie said, pointing to J.J. as J.J toppled face-first across a trampoline square. “She’s not going to take you away from him.”

 

“You really want to meet her?” Jughead felt unsure. Though Archie always had Jughead’s best interest at heart, he wasn’t always the subtlest person.

 

“Tell her I’ll give her a free training session at my gym. She can even bring a friend so she doesn’t feel pressured,” Archie offered, then quickly added, “especially if that friend is a brunette.”

 

“How noble of you,” Jughead smirked, entertained by Archie’s ability to spin anything into an opportunity to get laid. “You sure this isn’t all just a ploy to meet an attractive woman?”

 

“I mean, I’m not gonna say  _no_ to hanging out with a hottie, but I really just want to check Betty out, make sure she’s good enough for my boy.”

 

“It could be a moot point, Arch. She may not even want your boy.”

 

Archie nudged Jughead’s shoulder with his. “But you want her, right? Let me judge her level of interest in you, you’re too close to see clearly.”

 

“I mean, I’ll ask, you know, assuming she ever comes home again.” Feeling a surge of affection for his friend, Jughead returned Archie’s shoulder nudge. “Arch, you’re a prince among men.”

 

A representative from the gym suddenly loomed over them, a look of disapproval written across her face. “Your son is throwing foam bricks at other children. Fathers need to be more attentive at places like these, you’d be surprised by how easily kids can be injured.”

 

“If kids can be injured easily, then why did you bring J.J. here?” Archie asked Jughead, looking rather concerned. “I don’t want to see J.J. get hurt.”

 

“Your child won’t get hurt if you or your husband is watching him.” The woman sniped at Archie, then turned around and stormed off in a strop.

 

Both men broke out into laughter as they pushed themselves back up into a sitting position.

 

“The frequency with which people assume you’re my husband…says something either really good or really bad about our friendship.” Jughead wondered if people assumed the same thing about Betty and him when they took J.J. places together. “Are we coming off too flirty?”

 

“You called me a prince in front of her and then rubbed up against me,” Archie reminded him, fighting a giggle. “I’m pretty sure it was probably just that and not some world-shaking, sexual vibe between us.”

 

Jughead gasped, feigning offense. “Are you saying you’re  _not_  flirting with me? I thought you liked brunettes, Arch!”

 

Archie groaned and then edged toward the ball pit again. “I’m going to go pull your son off the other kids.”

 

Jughead called after him, “Sure, he’s only  _my_ son when he’s doing something wrong…”

 

* * *

 

Jughead was pulling a tray of chicken nuggets from the oven when Betty walked through the front door looking like the cover of a lifestyle magazine. Her hair fell over her shoulders in casual waves tangling with the spaghetti straps of her tailored work dress as she balanced her wet umbrella on the inner doormat. She caught his gaze for one fleeting, hopeful moment, then refocused her attention on J.J.

 

“How’s my favorite man?” She leaned over and peppered J.J.’s face with kisses. “Did you have a good day?”

 

The toddler smiled up at her. “Yes. Good.”

 

“What did you do today, pumpkin?” She quickly glanced at Jughead and then back down to her nephew.

 

“I went to the gym!” J.J. squealed, lifting both arms.

 

“Wow. Is that where you got all these big muscles?” She grabbed at his biceps, then tickled his armpits.

 

“Ow! Ow!” J.J. complained but was giggling hysterically throughout. “Auntie Betty is silly.”

 

“I am silly.” She looked directly at Jughead as she said it, her expression edged with contrition, and his chest tightened as if it were wrapped in tension bands. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

 

Jughead struggled to pull air into his lungs as he processed her apology, then stiffly bent down and rumpled J.J.’s hair while staring back at her. “He’s okay. Aren’t you, buddy? No permanent damage done.”

 

Jughead wasn’t mad at Betty, more confused and self-conscious than anything, but the moment she walked through the front door and their eyes locked, he’d decided none of it mattered. He wanted her, and not in that pedestrian way men decide they want a beautiful woman they meet at a bar - though she was obviously very beautiful - but in a way that made it physically painful for him to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her hand, her cheek, the curve of her shoulder…

 

Betty smiled softly at him, then hung the strap of her handbag on the back of the chair next to J.J.’s and took a seat. “What’s for dinner tonight? Chicken nuggets?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, nuggets are only available through pre-order and we’re all sold out.” Jughead pulled open the drawer next to the fridge and selected a menu from the jumble of papers. “Thai? We could get those gluey, flat noodles with no flavor that you love so much?”

 

She lifted her chin and her lips curled into a knowing grin. “If you hate them so much, why are the leftovers in the fridge always gone by morning?”

 

Jughead shrugged, unable to come up with a viable excuse. She had his number, as that might be the thing he liked about her most of all. “This is New York City, Betts. It’s probably the rats.”

 

* * *

 

After tucking J.J. into bed and getting conned into reading him two extra stories to distract him from the ‘scariness’ of the storm outside, Jughead was finally alone with Betty, who was sitting on the couch nibbling on a spring roll. He was at a loss for what to say, not quite sure how best to broach a discussion about what happened -- or what she might want to happen in the future.

 

When Jughead finally reappeared, Betty innocently blinked her doe-eyes at him, looking far more composed than she had a right to be. The lack of effect this situation seemed to have on her challenged Jughead’s sense of reality. Did the night before actually happen or was it just a fever dream he’d convinced himself was true? And if it was real, did it mean so little to her that it barely seemed to register?

 

“Do you think it’s strange we never eat at the dinner table?” He asked, hoping an innocuous question might get the conversation flowing.

 

“No?” She swallowed the bite she was chewing and silently offered the other half of the spring roll to him. “You’re the last person I thought would stand on ceremony.”

 

“I just wonder what that says about us. As a metaphor.” Jughead popped the rest of her spring roll into his mouth and chewed slowly, hoping to buy himself some time to think of a non-threatening way to bring up the elephant in the room.

 

“I think it says that you’ve taken too many lit theory classes and that sometimes a rose is just a rose.” Betty lifted a flat, plastic container from the coffee table and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. 

 

“Except when it isn’t.” Jughead winked, then unscrewed the top off two cold pilsners and handed one to Betty.

 

He realized then that a rose was a perfect metaphor for Betty: elegant from afar, sweet and soft to the touch, but prickly if not handled with care.

 

Jughead watched her eat her pad see ew in silence, hoping she’d look up and give him any indication she was willing to talk. When she didn’t, he’d decided that his need for clarity trumped her need for denial. “Now that we’ve established that none of our behavior has any hidden meaning, maybe you’d like to talk to me about what happened last night.”

 

She blushed scarlet and brought the bottle to her lips, drinking half the beer in one gulp. Her thumb nail scraped the corner of the label, tearing it from the glass like an orange peel in one long strip. “What is there to talk about? We were both there.”

 

Jughead looked at her like she’d just spoken to him in Chinese. “Look, I get you’re working this whole WASPy repression vibe - and believe me, it’s doing things to me - but we need to talk about what happened last night.”

 

“Why?” She blinked at him, then finished the rest of her beer.

 

His brow quirked almost violently in disbelief. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sophisticated enough to pretend your hand wasn’t down the front of my pants less than 24 hours ago, but that doesn’t mean it never actually happened.”

 

Through the window, static electricity filled the sky in an impressive light show, followed by the booming sounds of thunder.

 

Betty jumped from the noise and rested her food container on the table, then looked sadly down at her empty lap. “I’m completely mortified about what I did, Juggie. It was wrong of me to take advantage of you like that, and,” she stuttered out an exhale, “I have no idea what came over me.”

 

Jughead’s emotions were all over the place. Did she regret what they did because she thought he didn’t want it or was she just trying to let him down easy? He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to formulate his thoughts, figuring he should start by addressing the obvious. “You didn’t take advantage of me, Betty.”

 

She shifted in her seat, the pained expression on her face pinching her beautiful features. “I did. You work for me, and I just—”

 

“I wanted you to touch me,” He said in a rush, interrupting her before she could follow that line of thought to its conclusion. “I’ve wanted you to touch me since the day I moved in, so if anybody was taking advantage…”

 

Her gaze slowly lifted to meet his, a shy look in her eye. “In a way, that may make things worse.”

 

Jughead reached out and dared to touch her arm - hoping it wouldn’t make her more skittish than she already seemed. Her skin was warm under his hand – everything was always warm – but she still allowed it to remain there, which he counted as progress. “You would prefer thinking you molested me?”

 

She shook her head, her laughter somewhat breaking the tension. “It would just make it easier if this were one-sided.”

 

A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. “What would be easier?”

 

“Putting a stop to whatever this is.” Betty moved her hand back and forth between them.

 

He closed his eyes against her rejection, but then remember the scent of her hair and the determined look on her face before she wrapped her hand around him, and decided that he wouldn’t give up on the idea of them as easily as she had. “Why does it have to stop?”

 

“J.J. loves you so much.” She bit her lip and looked over Jughead’s shoulder toward J.J.’s closed bedroom door. “And, he just can’t lose another person from his life. Not because of me.”

 

He turned fully toward Betty and his grip on her forearm tightened momentarily. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“Not now, but what happens if everything implodes?”

 

He pulled his hand back at the look of abject terror on her face.

 

Jughead sighed and inched slightly closer to her, deciding if he was going to flame out, he may as well do it spectacularly. “I’m not sure I can stay away from you. Not now, that I’ve felt your hands on me. All I want to do it touch you, Betty.”

 

He reached forward and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb brush carelessly over her cheekbone. She exhaled a shaky breath and shook her head her head at him in warning.

 

“Tell me to stay away,” He whispered, hands bracketing her face as he leaned in to kiss her.

 

His lips had nearly touched hers when she shook herself from his grip and abruptly stood up. “I can’t believe how badly I’ve fucked everything up. We were fine before. When we ignored it, we were fine. Now? Whether we do or we don’t, this all ends with you leaving.”

 

Jughead scrambled to his feet, not willing to let this conversation end without resolution. “You forgot the one scenario that doesn’t end with me leaving.”

 

Betty turned around wildly, blonde hair flying into her face, eyes flashing furiously like a battle-ready Valkyrie. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

 

She looked so cross with him that he almost started laughing. Was she seriously angry with him for causing her to feel attraction? 

 

“I know this seems far-fetched to you,” he said, “but what if we actually worked out?”

 

The crease between Betty’s eyebrows grew deeper. “What?”

 

“You said this ends one of two ways. I’m telling you there’s a third option.” His hands fell lightly to her shoulders, hoping to keep her from running off.

 

Her jaw tightened and she narrowed her gaze like he’d just said something to disgust her. “Why couldn’t you have just been ugly?”

 

“And here I thought you liked me for my brain.” Before she could push him away, Jughead leaned forward and pressed his lips to her brow, flattening her worry lines, and when he pulled back she looked noticeably calmer. “Neither of us is going anywhere tonight, Betts, maybe we don’t have to make any decisions about it right this moment?”

 

Betty sighed in relief, then almost immediately began to pout. “You being this understanding is not really helping my willpower.”

 

He grinned smugly at her frustration, only stopping when she rolled her eyes at him.

 

“My willpower has suddenly been restored,” She said, flippantly.

 

“Well, mine hasn’t. Maybe we should distract ourselves?” He sat down again on the couch and pulled her with him, then handed her the television remote. “I’ll even let you buy me a movie.”

 

She looked at him warily but accepted the peace-offering. “Okay, but I get to choose this time.” 

 

Betty scrolled through the options, bottom lip trapped enticingly between her teeth, and finally settled on the movie, ‘ _Body Heat’._

 

Her racy choice of film sent a bit of a mixed-message for somebody trying to distract themselves from the specter of a potential affair, but Jughead let it pass without comment.

 

They finished their meal in silence and things almost began to feel normal between them again. Almost.

 

“Have you seen this movie before?” He asked, knowing what scene was coming next.

 

“I haven’t,” She said, and he realized that her selection wasn’t a hidden message to him. Maybe she was right after all? Perhaps a rose was just a rose? “Have you?”

 

“I have,” Jughead admitted, right before the first turning point in the film arrived. His spine lengthened with nervous energy as William Hurt’s character left Kathleen Turner’s house. He knew what was about to happen. Maybe he should have told Betty the nature of the movie they were watching but was it really his responsibility to give her spoilers for a 35-year-old film?

 

_Ned Racine stood outside the front door, stewing in indecision. He looked longingly at Matty Walker through the glass paneling, and her eyes lifted to his just as a stark bolt of lightning struck in the distance followed by a rumble of thunder. Ned pulled the door back open, slamming it closed with such force the glass shattered to the floor in splinters, then crossed the room and took her in his arms._

 

The sounds of the storm outside echoed the one on the television, filling the room with the crash of thunder.

 

_Ned and Matty kissed, grabbing at one another like feral animals. He roughly turned her in his arms to face away from him, then inched up the hem of her red dress and cupped the front of her panties with his palm. She squirmed in his grip, rubbing her ass along the front of his trousers as he held her possessively, his other hand massaging her breast through her dress._

 

Jughead’s gaze cut to Betty, who was shifting uncomfortably on the couch. When she finally turned to him, she looked as if he’d utterly betrayed her trust.

 

“Why didn’t you warn me?” She hissed, before standing up and running to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

 

Jughead was stunned at Betty’s outburst, and suddenly deeply angry. She acted like he was doing this to her on purpose when she was the one who had chosen the movie. She was the one who had crossed the line between them first.

 

He rose to his feet, powered by self-righteous fury, and started for her room like a gladiator psyching himself up for a match. Without thinking about the consequences, he flung her bedroom door open with a bang and glowered at her from the doorway.

 

“This is not my fault,” he growled, letting sheer impulse drive his words.

 

Betty was standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her own waist as if consoling herself. She looked over her shoulder at him, his appearance in her private space not appearing to come as any surprise to her, almost like it was inevitable.

 

“I know that,” She spat back, almost as a challenge.

 

They stared at each other and the atmosphere between them became as charged as the air outside, thick with same explosive potential.

 

“Good.” Jughead slammed the door behind him closed and stormed toward her, pulling her back flush against his front.

 

She gasped at the brazen move and he worried he’d gone too far until he felt the slight press of her ass against his groin.

 

“Tell me that you want this,” She whispered, her chest heaving with each word.

 

Jughead slid his hand under her skirt and cupped her through her panties, tugging her tighter against his hardening cock. “You can feel that I do.”

 

The material between Betty’s legs was damp, and Jughead traced one finger around the patch of wetness. The idea that he’d been the one to put her in this state made him dizzy with need. “I can feel you want this, too.”

 

Her breathing picked up as he slipped his other hand under her shirt and grabbed one of her breasts over her bra. “Did you think about me last night when you were alone in your room? Did you think about what we did?”

 

She nodded her response, her hair brushing the underside of his chin and catching on his 5 o’clock shadow.

 

Whatever thin veneer of professionalism that had existed before between them had been fractured so badly it would barely take a tap to lay the whole thing to waste. He toyed with the elastic waist of her panties, brushing the backs of his fingers against the skin of her pelvis and she sucked in a breath of air at the contact.

 

“Did you touch yourself last night?” He asked, his cock filling at the thought.

 

When she didn’t answer right away, Jughead slipped his hand inside the lace of her bra and gently pinched her nipple. “Tell me.”

 

“I—I can’t do this,” She said, sounding frantic as she writhed against him. “I can’t.”

 

“You’re not doing anything, Betts. I am.” Jughead dragged his lips up the shell of her ear, causing her to shiver. “Show me how you touched yourself last night, because I know you did.” His hand dipped below her waistband, chasing the source of her heat. “Tell me how you want it.”

 

At her silence, he dipped one of his fingers inside of her, followed quickly by the other, prompting a breathy curse from her.

 

“God, you’re so wet for me.” Jughead set his mouth against her jugular, exerting just enough pressure to make her moan. “Did I make you this wet last night?”

 

“No.” She sucked in a breath of air and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. “I was wetter.”

 

“God.” He smiled at her admission, pressing his fingers deeper inside of her and earning a gasp. “How long have you been thinking about me touching you like this?”

 

He dragged his fingers slowly out of her then thrust them quickly back, pumping them a few times but keeping them shallow, and Betty’s neck arched at the movement.

 

“Shit,” She whispered, her expression screwed up in pleasure as she bit her bottom lip.

 

“How long?” He repeated his question as he moved his fingers more rhythmically within her.

 

“Since—” Betty moaned as he pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing her ass along the ridge of his cock in response. “When—when I met you.”

 

Jughead’s hand slid back up to her heart, holding her in place.

 

It was vindicating, knowing they both had wanted each other from the very beginning. “Was last night the first time you thought about me while you touched yourself?”

 

He hoped she had fantasized about him before, he sure as hell thought about her every morning in the blue light of dawn before anybody else was awake to hear him groan her name.

 

Her breathing grew erratic as his fingers picked up their pace. “You know It wasn’t, Jug.”

 

“I didn’t know…I’d hoped.” Jughead nuzzled the bend of her neck and tried to hold back a triumphant grin. “Tell me what I was doing to you in your mind.”

 

She lifted one of her arms and draped it backward over his shoulder, pulling his face closer to her neck. He nipped at the skin there - once, twice, again - then pushed the right cup of her bra up and gently circled her nipple with the edge of his nail.

 

Betty’s mouth fell open as she began to pant. “You had your mouth on me.”

 

“Where on you?”

 

“You  _know_  where.” She turned and bit his earlobe, the small shock of pain making him even harder.

 

He retaliated by pinching her nipple again as he bucked his pelvis against the cleft of her ass.

 

“I’m close,” She announced through gritted teeth, as she rocked her hips unevenly into his hand. “I’m going to—oh my god, Jug…oh my god...”

 

She came with a full-body shudder against him, hands curled into fists, gasping for air like a drowning woman. He held her through it, drawing her closer to his frame as she lost control.

 

Betty’s arm slipped from his back and fell boneless to her side, she turned her head and pressed a chaste kiss to his Adam’s apple. “Thank you.”

 

Jughead knew he should probably release her from his grip, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not without knowing if it would be the last time he got to hold her. “Betty—”

 

The question hung in the air, as persistent and inescapable as the oppressive humidity outside.

 

“Nothing has changed,” She said, quietly detangling her body from his and turning to face him. “I wish it could - you have no idea - but it can’t. I have to put J.J.’s needs first, and he needs you.”

 

“What about your needs, Betty?” Jughead took a step closer and she backed one step away, widening the distance between them. He exhaled roughly and combed his fingers through his hair, feeling his frustration reach a boiling point. “You’re fooling yourself if you think we can stop.”

 

“I can stop,” She said, definitively, nodding as if trying to convince herself. “I  _can_.”

 

“Yeah?” He took another step forward, but this time she held her ground. “And, what if I can’t?”

 

“Please.” Betty shook her head as she struggled to hold back tears. “Jughead, please.”

 

It was just one word, but it obliterated his resolve.

 

Yes, he wanted her, maybe more than he’s wanted anything before, but not enough that he was willing to destroy her in the process. He couldn’t live with himself if he caused her any distress.

 

“Okay, Betty,” Jughead acquiesced, unable to meet her eyes. “Okay.”

 

Betty reached toward him but aborted her touch at the last moment, curling her fingers into a fist. “I’m sorry.”

 

There wasn’t anything else to be said about it. She didn’t want to pursue anything with him and he would never pressure her. It was an ending to something that never truly started, but that didn’t stop a cold, empty sensation from spreading through his chest.

 

Without another word, Jughead turned and strode out of her bedroom, turning directly into the hallway bathroom and locking himself inside.

 

* * *

 

 

“Idiot,” Jughead said, accusingly, pointing at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re an idiot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm mean, but the fic would be over if they could get their shit together quickly.
> 
> Sending a very large thank you to all of my readers who have taken the time to leave such nice comments. They really fuel my motivation and also give me warm fuzzies. 
> 
> I'll be posting a blurb of this on my Tumblr (HappilyShanghaied) to try and attract more readers, so if you're enjoying this fic and feel inclined to spread the word, you can find it there. 
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter, I would LOVE to hear what you thought of it. See you at the next update!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Sorry for the delay, there was a push for fic writers to create post-finale one-shots, so I was hard at work on that (mine is called ‘Second Skin’ and you can find it on my profile).
> 
> Last time I posted a chapter for this fic, there was some kind of AO3 glitch that lasted a full day and it prevented a lot of people from leaving comments on the work (and also kept me from responding to the comments that did come through), so I’m sorry if you wanted to say something about it and couldn’t, bc you know who much I value everybody’s feedback. Fingers crossed it doesn’t happen again this time!
> 
> Many many thanks to ArsenicPanda for cleaning up all of my punctuation and grammar mistakes in this chapter. I owe you one!
> 
> ENJOY!

* * *

 

 

Betty burst into the studio’s makeup room and plopped into the chair next to Veronica’s. “Well, that was a shitshow.”

Veronica, who was currently enduring an Evian mist bath to set her makeup, held up a finger.

“This is the part where you’re supposed to ask me what was a shitshow,” Betty grumbled, slumping down in her chair.

Midge, the show’s makeup artist, finally took her thumb off the sprayer and cleared the air with her hand.

“She’s done now,” Midge announced, then caught a glimpse of Betty and gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

Betty looked at her reflection in one of the nearby lighted mirrors and frowned. “Reggie Mantle.”

The normally perky ponytail Betty wore on-screen was flattened from the outside humidity, her makeup was melted and smudged, and the camisole wardrobe steamed for her that morning was uncomfortably stuck to every crevice of her torso.

“Did he lock you in a schvitz bath all morning or what?” Veronica pursed her lips in thought, and Betty could tell her friend was already plotting a revenge operation in her mind.

“Worse.” Betty pulled the pins from her hair and aggressively slapped each one onto the vanity table, wishing it was Reggie’s smug face. “He suggested to the producers that I start conducting man-on-the-street interviews with viewers about the extreme weather conditions we are currently experiencing. The producers loved the idea and now it’s a weekly series.”

“You should’ve just slept with him again.” Toni appeared in the doorway, looking equally as worse for wear, and leaned against the wall. “Because, as it turns out, he was determined to fuck you in whatever way he could.”

Veronica’s face grew hard, her hackles clearly activated. “If Reggie wants to be fucked, I can think of about fifty different ways I could—”

“Forget it.” Betty waved her hand through the air. “He thinks this is a punishment—”

“—it is a punishment!” Toni interjected.

“—but we’re going to show him.”  Betty reached for a makeup wipe and began to clean her face with it. “I’ve been looking for an opportunity to show off what I can do, that I’m more than just the weather. So, Reggie’s little stunt may actually prove to be fortuitous.”

“And sweaty,” Toni added. “Don’t forget sweaty.”

Midge tutted at the state of Betty’s makeup and began rummaging through the trays of her storage cube labeled ‘Betty Cooper’. “I’m going to have to get a waterproof look ready for you, because this is just…” She made a disgusted face and returned to her search.

“I’m just glad this day is over, because I could really use a drink,” Betty said as she applied toner to a cotton ball and swept it across her face and neck, cooling herself down. “Anybody want to hit a bar with me after work?”

“You’re not still avoiding your nanny, are you?” Veronica rolled her eyes and unsnapped the makeup bib from around her shoulders.

“No!” Betty squeaked, a little too loudly to be believable. “We’ve just been on different schedules this week.”

Toni snorted a laugh. “That sounded real.”

Betty twisted the chair around to face her. “I—”

“Oh, give up the ghost already, will you?” Veronica stood up and brushed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Everyone in this room already knows you messed around with your nanny.”

“I didn’t,” Midge said with a sympathetic wince as she carried a tray of supplies to Betty’s vanity. “Was it really bad or something? Because, I can see how that might be pretty awkward.”

“Oh Midge, you sweet lamb, you’re assuming Betty’s rational,” Veronica explained, punctuating the thought with a sigh. “My girl only avoids things that make her happy.”

“I do not!” Betty shouted to Veronica’s reflection in the mirror, but then her eyes caught sight of her own forced expression, and she shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am avoiding him a little bit, but things are just so weird between us now.”

“Betty, you’ve seen each other’s ‘O’ faces, of course it’s weird. Especially after you rejected him.” Veronica turned to Toni. “Have you tried talking sense into her?”

“I mean, she’s the one creating the weirdness, not him. From what I can tell, he’s trying to be normal. He even sent a text message today inviting her to a private gym for a training session with his best friend.” Toni tried to smooth the frizz from her hair, then gave up and began to braid it. “I told her to go, but she’s too much of a chicken.”

Betty sat up, indignant. “I don’t—he—that’s not—no!”

“Oh dear,” Veronica said. “I think you may have fried her motherboard.”

“My motherboard is just fine, thank you!” Betty insisted, a little too forcefully to be believable. “And things are good—are going to be good—as soon as we get past the whole—“ She made a vague gesture with her hands that sent Veronica and Toni into hysterics.

“I think what you meant to do was this.” Toni lifted a hand and simulated jerking a man off.

Veronica crossed her arms and tilted her head in contemplation.

Betty grew nervous; she could almost hear the Machiavellian gears turning in Veronica’s brain.

“If things are so fine between you, then prove it. Go to the training session.” Veronica smiled in a way that was anything but friendly. “You know, since you’re not avoiding him.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at Betty, waiting for a response.

Betty really did not want to face the situation. The patented Cooper way of dealing with a problem was to ignore it until it went away, but Jughead was clearly more sensitive than the Coopers, and she would have to resolve this quickly if she was going to get him to stay. That didn’t mean she was strong enough to do it alone.

“Jughead’s text told me to bring a friend.” Betty’s gaze swept the room, looking for takers. “I’ll go, but only if one of you comes with me.”

Midge, who had begun fixing Betty’s makeup, shot her a sad expression. “I’m afraid I’m stuck at work all night, hun. Otherwise, I’d help you out.”

Betty glanced at Toni, who answered with a laugh. “If you ever catch me in a gym, you should just assume I’ve injured myself somehow and require physical therapy.”

Feeling demoralized, Betty finally turned to Veronica. “Please don’t make me go alone.”

Veronica smiled and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, I’ll be there. I’m almost positive you’d fuck it up, otherwise.”

 

* * *

 

After texting Jughead back for the details, Betty spent the next hour pacing the studio floor while she waited for Veronica to finish shooting her afternoon segment.

Before heading to the gym, they’d stopped off briefly at Veronica’s palatial apartment in Chelsea, where Veronica forced Betty into one of her sky blue Lululemon athletic outfits then carefully arranged her hair in an artfully messy ponytail.

Betty wasn’t sure why anybody bothered getting this dressed up for the gym when they were only going to get sweaty. That was, until she saw the gym.

The gym Jughead’s friend worked at was so exclusive it required a fingerprint scan at the entrance.  Looking at the corrugated steel beams and poured concrete floors, Betty felt like an interloper. She couldn’t imagine Jughead having a friend employed at a gym like this, much less Jughead working out there.

“I feel like we accidentally wandered into the lobby of a W Hotel,” Betty whispered, feeling completely out of place under the appraising glare of the front desk employee, who was dressed in an all-black Nehru shirt and matching pants like a trendy Bond villain from the 1960’s.

British techno trance music floated out of the speakers, not quite loud enough to prevent an awkward silence.

Veronica, of course, was completely in her element. “Oh relax. They have the same equipment as every other gym, just nicer amenities. Pretend you’re at a really nice Y if it helps you look less like a kidnapping victim being allowed outside for the first time.”

Just as Betty was about to fake an illness, a redheaded man—body practically chiseled from marble—stepped through the internal sliding door wearing a broad smile.

“You must be Betty!” He said, sounding genuinely excited to meet her.

She returned his smile and held out her hand for him to shake. “Guilty. I assume you’re Archie?”

Ignoring her hand, Archie instead folded Betty into a warm hug. Thankfully, his body was softer than it looked. “I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we’re already great friends.”

When Archie finally released Betty, she gestured to her right. “This is my friend, Veronica. Jughead told me I could bring someone…”

Archie’s head turned in Veronica’s direction, and Betty could almost see the synapses in his brain firing off all at once. His jaw fell comically open with a silent gasp that Betty would’ve laughed at if it wasn’t so damned cute. She’d seen Veronica put men into a fugue state before, but never as quickly as this.

Veronica looked Archie over from head to toe, her eyes slowing as they landed on his spandex-clad thighs. “I’m Veronica.”

Betty shook her head, forehead wrinkling with amusement. “I just told him that.”

“What?” Veronica asked, clearly not having heard her, and when she finally lifted her head, her cheeks were stained a deep pink. “It’s really nice to meet you Archie. Thanks so much for the kind offer to train us.”

“Yeah. I’m—it’s my pleasure.” He waved a badge in front of a black glass panel, and the doors slid open again. “After you.”

Veronica gifted Archie with a shy smile as she walked through the doors, and it was at that moment Betty realized her best friend would be completely worthless to her this evening.

 

* * *

 

  
The elevator doors opened directly into the middle of the gym. Fashion industry workers, trust fund babies, trophy wives, and gay men who could be models jockeyed for space on the long rows of glittering steel equipment cutting lines through the room like it was ruled paper. The clientele was intense, opting for ear buds and iPads over any human interaction.

“Jug’s in the child care area,” Archie said, leading them toward a row of picture windows spotted with signs bearing greetings in several different languages.

Being the only man in the room, Betty noticed him instantly, and a strange sort of longing twisted in her chest. By design, she had barely crossed path with him all week, and as she took in his rumpled hair and shapely arms, she realized she had missed his company bitterly. She was stupid for letting one or two weak moments keep her from a person who had grown to be a treasured friend. In trying so hard to keep him from leaving, she had all but left him herself.

As if sensing Betty’s presence, Jughead’s head tipped up, and he grinned at her before tapping J.J.’s shoulder and pointing her out.

“Auntie!” J.J. shrieked and ran toward Betty, leaping onto her like a howler monkey and nearly knocking her over.

Betty’s gym bag slid from her arms as she reached out to catch him. “Hey pumpkin! You working on those muscles again?”

“I’m already strong!” J.J. said and then climbed up her body as if to demonstrate.

Jughead ran after the boy and tried unsuccessfully to pull him off. “You’re going to hurt Auntie Betty if you keep doing that, kiddo. You’re not as light as you look.”

The nannies of other children shot them scandalized looks.

Archie bounded over and lifted J.J. easily from Betty’s arms, placing the boy on his shoulders.

“Ginger power!” J.J. screamed while grabbing two handfuls of Archie’s hair, causing the man to wince in pain.

Betty and Jughead exchanged an embarrassed look.

“What did you feed him?” She asked, raising her brow.

“Why do you assume—” Jughead’s question was interrupted by J.J. cackling at top volume. He turned back to Betty and shrugged, sheepishly. “I may have let him have some ice cream.”

From Jughead’s guilty expression, Betty could tell there was more to the story, and crossed her arms over her chest. “That is not an ice cream high.”

He mirrored her stance, somewhat defensively. “I may have also given him cookies. And Pop Rocks.”

She buried her face in her hand. “Please tell me you’re describing ice cream toppings.”

“They were ice cream toppings,” he repeated, unconvincingly, then threw his hands up at her look of disapproval. “You literally just told me to tell you that.”

A sudden pall of silence distracted them from their bickering. Veronica was holding J.J. against her hip as he examined her pearl necklace.

“What?” Veronica said, noting their stares. “Did you think there would be something I’m not good at?”

Archie stared at Veronica like he was a tourist at the Louvre.

“How are we going to leave him in here while we work out?” Betty asked Jughead, rolling her eyes at the scene in front of her.

Jughead glanced warily at the toddler and then back to Betty. “He looks okay now?”

“Jug—”

“The staff can come get us if he turns into a gremlin again, okay? Will you please stop worrying about him for, like, an hour?”

Betty looked unsure, but Jughead decided for her, lifting her gym bag from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Jug, I can carry my own bag,” Betty insisted, earning a derisive look from Jughead, who chose to ignore her. “Ugh, fine. Thank you.”

“Do you need to change?” Jughead’s eyes dropped to her body, and he started to cough. “Oh, you’re—you’ve, um, I don’t know why I thought there was a chance you wouldn’t be fully prepared and ready to go.”

Betty wondered for a moment if she was too predictable, but then pushed back the creeping insecurity and pasted on a smile. “Archie, Jughead said you have to teach a class before we train?”

“Soul cycle,” Archie said, lifting J.J. from Veronica’s arms and depositing him onto a nearby jungle gym. “You cycle, Betty?”

She immediately turned to Jughead, panicked. “I grew up in the city, I never learned to ride a bike.”

Jughead visibly struggled not to laugh. “Seriously?”

“My mom said it was too dangerous.” Betty shifted awkwardly on her feet. “I should probably learn so can I take J.J., right?”

Jughead’s eyes softened. “I’ll teach you sometime, if you want.”

Betty smiled and nodded her head. “I’d like that. However, it doesn’t really solve my problem for today.”

Veronica curled her fingers around Betty’s forearm. “Honey, you’re not riding a real bike in there, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t even need to know how to balance?” Betty asked, huffing out a breath at Veronica’s pitying look. “I don’t go to the gym, okay? And the only ones I’ve been to have not been…this.”

“Oh, girl.” Veronica shook her head in bewilderment. “How do you keep this body so tight when you don’t work out?”

“She jogs,” Jughead said, drawing all of their attention. “I mean, that’s where she claims she’s going at 7 am when she leaves the house.”

“Class starts in eight minutes guys, we really need to get inside,” Archie reminded them, pointing to the door. “Meet me in Studio B, if you want to take a minute to say goodbye to J.J.”

“I’ll go with you, Archie,” Veronica volunteered, tagging along after him.

Betty and Jughead both kissed J.J. goodbye and started slowly toward Studio B.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” She asked as they walked down the hall.

Jughead looked over his shoulder, clearly concerned. “I’m more worried about the other kids, to be honest.”

They walked in companionable silence, the heavy question between them put on ice for the moment. Just as Jughead’s hand reached the door, Betty steadied it with her own. “Jug?”

He looked at her through his peripheral vision. “Of course you’d pick now to have this conversation. What could be more Betty than that?”

“Sorry.” Embarrassed, she lifted her hand from his, but he turned around and caught her wrist.

“I didn’t say no.” He looked intently at her and took a breath. “I don’t like the way things have been this week in the house.”

“I don’t either, and I know it’s my fault for avoiding—”

He shook his head at her. “I could’ve come to you, too, if I’d wanted to.”

Bettys chest tightened at the admission. “But, you didn’t want to?”

Jughead sighed and loosened his grip on her wrist. “Of course I wanted to, which is exactly why I didn’t. You said you didn’t want,” he made a vague gesture between them. “I refuse to make you feel uncomfortable in your own home.”

“It’s your home too, and you don’t make me uncomfortable, Juggie.” Betty was sick knowing what she’d been putting him through, making him think she saw him as some kind of predator. “In the two months you’ve lived with us, I feel we’ve become good friends. I love the time we spend together and I’m so sorry I’ve made it so weird.”

“We’ve both made it weird.”

“It’s kind of you to say, but I know that’s not true.” She bit her bottom lip and tried to keep herself from saying anything stupid. “I miss my friend.”

He sagged with relief at her words, offering her a crooked smile. “I’ve missed you too, Betts. My evenings are so empty without you ruining the end to every good thriller we watch together.”

“I’m not trying to ruin the mysteries, I just assume you are also smart enough to work out the endings.”

Jughead pushed his index finger into her shoulder. “Nobody likes a know-it-all.”

“You do,” Betty said, smiling widely, and then paused. “Are we okay, Jug?”

“We’re golden.” He nodded and placed his hand back on the door and turned the knob.

Two steps into the room and Betty stopped in her tracks. It was dark inside, other than some black lights overhead that gave the cyclists’ neon outfits an otherworldly glow. The bass music coming from the overhead speakers thumped so loudly it rattled Betty’s bones, and the grating sound of Archie’s voice barking orders at his students over a microphone had her wondering how hard it would be for her to disassociate for the next hour.

Jughead turned to her, looking as terrified as she was, and they both scrambled out of the studio. He shut the door behind them and physically shook off the harrowing experience. “Hard no.”

“Hard no.” Betty agreed as they ambled toward the front of the gym. “I did notice a smoothie stand near the locker rooms, though. If you’re interested?”

“Hard yes.” Jughead said, pulling her behind him as he walked toward the shop.

 

* * *

 

  
Dinner was a domestic affair, with Jughead and Betty trading off cooking and feeding duties. J.J. was out of sorts though, whining and complaining about even the littlest things.

He missed his mother, longed for her to be home with him, but there was nothing to be done about that. Betty wasn’t sure when or if Polly would ever return, but she was certain that J.J. would carry this abandonment with him for life. Even if Betty were the perfect guardian, she could never make up for her sister’s selfishness. It wouldn’t stop Betty from trying, though.

It was an hour past J.J.’s bedtime, and Jughead was reading him his sixth book. J.J. sat curled on Jughead’s lap with his thumb in his mouth, head pillowed on Jughead’s chest. Betty was grateful J.J. had a man in his life, as his father had chosen not to be involved in raising him. She did worry, though, that J.J. might get too attached, and what would happen then?

Jughead would finish his dissertation at some point and was likely get a professional position at his university. His living with them had an expiration date that was fast approaching.

Betty sat on the other side of the single mattress and stroked her nephew’s hair away from his face. “Are you feeling a little more tired now, pumpkin?”

J.J. burrowed deeper into Jughead’s torso, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” She continued to stroke his hair.

“I miss grandma, too,” he grumbled, his pitiful tone nearly breaking Betty’s calm facade.

“Grandma is still not up on her feet yet, J.J., but we can go visit her soon, if you’d like?”

“Really?” His eyes widened for a minute, before halfway closing again.

“Of course.” She planted a kiss on his forehead. “We can FaceTime her tomorrow and set up a trip. Does that sound good?”

A faint smile eased the look of distress on J.J.’s face. “Sound good.”

Jughead slowly rose from the bed and carefully set the boy down again onto the mattress.

“Juggie.” J.J. blindly reached out and latched onto Jughead’s thigh. “Want Juggie to stay.”

As Betty watched Jughead tend to her nephew, she realized she felt exactly the same way. She wondered if it was possible he could actually be right, that things between them might work out if she just gave them a shot. Betty quickly reminded herself that nothing ever worked out for her the way she planned. No. It didn’t matter how much she wanted this—him—she would certainly find some way to mess it all up.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep, buddy. How does that sound?” Jughead offered, walking around to sit next to Betty on her side of the bed.

“Yeah…” J.J. yawned loudly and closed his eyes fully. “Night Juggie. Night Auntie.”

“Goodnight Moon,” Jughead teased and softly ruffled a hand through J.J.’s hair.

Betty and Jughead remained on the bed, both quietly watching J.J. until he fell into a deep sleep. When they were sure he was out, they crept outside of the room and shut the door quietly behind them.

Jughead and Betty shared a concerned look.

He leaned against the wall and sighed. “It’s just a bad day, Betty. Everybody has those.”

She shook her head, expression pinched with irritation. “It’s not a bad day, it’s a bad rest of his life. His mother just up and abandoned him, Juggie. How does a person get over something like that?”

“They don’t.” Jughead looked down at the floral pattern decorating the hallway runner rug and shrugged. “I didn’t.”

Betty’s spine straightened with the revelation. “What?”

“My dad was a drunk, my mom left. They pretty much left it up to me to raise my sister.” He lifted his eyes, voice a bit hesitant. “It was hard—it still is—I’m not going to pretend something like this doesn’t leave a mark, but J.J. has it so much better than I did.”

“How so?”

Jughead shot her a flat look, as though the answer should be obvious. “He has you, Betty.”

“He also has you,” she reminded him.

Jughead responded to her words with a smile, which Betty couldn’t help but return.

“I hope,” he started, then shook his head and started over. “I’m not going to be his nanny forever, but I don’t want to be another disappointment to him. I’d like to always stay in his life in some way...if that’s okay?”

Betty could feel the tears pricking at her eyes and nodded quickly before they could fall. “He’d like that.”

“Good,” he whispered, eyes self-consciously darting to the child’s closed door.

“I’d like that, too,” she admitted, more to herself than him.

His head tilted to the side, brow furrowed as if considering something. “You would?”

They stood across the hall from each other, eyes locked in an unspoken game of chicken. The air between them grew thick like a Florida summer, more difficult and taxing to breathe. 

Was she really going to do this? Was he? It seemed almost inevitable at this point.

Betty wasn’t sure what came over her, but she was the one who flinched first, taking a step toward him. She rolled onto her toes and pressed a chaste kiss just to the side of his mouth then stepped back into place and braced for the fallout.

Jughead froze for a moment then stood up a little straighter, a curious look in his eyes. “Betty—”

“I’m so sorry,” she said in a rush, shocking herself with the bold move, then glanced desperately toward her bedroom, hoping to flee from this latest round of romantic humiliation.

Before she could walk away, Jughead crossed the hallway in two strides and backed her up against the wall, one hand coming to rest on the side of her neck. His eyes flitted wildly over her features, and Betty felt herself flush with embarrassment.

“I’m not sorry,” He said and pressed his mouth to hers, softly at first, then deeper as his tongue brushed against hers.

A frisson of energy sparked low in Betty’s belly, spreading like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. And, despite the overwhelming feeling, she had a moment of clarity, thinking, _‘yes’_ and _‘this’._

They kissed for blissful seconds until Jughead pulled back suddenly, but his hand remained wrapped around the column of her throat, his thumb skimming the edge of her jaw. Their chests rose and fell in tandem as he put a few inches of distance between them. “Is this something we do now, or…”

Unable to stop herself anymore, Betty answered Jughead by cupping the sides of his face and pulling him toward her for a another kiss.

He chuckled against her lips, then kissed his way across her cheek until he reached her ear and murmured, “I’ve wanted this— _you_ —for so long.”

Betty angled his face toward hers again and nearly melted under the heat of his gaze. “I actually thought I could stay away from you.”

He backed her further into the wall, flattening the hard ridges of his body flush against her curves, and kissed her again, over and over until she was lightheaded.

“I want—“

“—yes,” she nodded, holding her breath as she waited for his next move. “Do it.”

Jughead and Betty’s limbs tangled together, forearms colliding with elbows as they tried to lift each other’s shirts off at the same time. She pushed her leggings to the ground along with her underwear and kicked them with her shoes a few feet away, leaving her naked and unashamed in front of him, then tugged the waist of his boxers down.

He paused for a moment and looked at her, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a loud swallow as his eyes performed a languorous tour of her body. “Jesus, I knew you were going to look good naked, but this…you're gorgeous.”

Betty relaxed at the compliment, feeling much less self-conscious, and took in his body, athletic but lithe, strong but also soft, and returned the sentiment...or tried to. “You’re...yeah, same.”

He smirked at her flustered babbling. “I know I’ll probably regret asking this, but are you sure you want to do this? With me?”

She dropped her hands to his shoulders, using them as leverage to lift herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. His erection was hard and leaking against his stomach, and as she settled herself against it, he groaned into her mouth. “What do you think?”

“Thank God,” Jughead said, affectionately nosing her cheek.

He roughly grabbed her bottom, pulling her more tightly against him, and Betty’s eyes rolled into the back of her head at the sensation. “Oh shit.”

He squeezed her ass even harder, causing her to desperately buck her pelvis against him to gain some friction. The unexpected move shifted them forward, her back connecting with the wall with a loud thump.

“Oh shit!” She hissed for a different reason this time, glancing nervously toward J.J.’s bedroom door. “What if he—?”

Jughead rocked firmly against her core, cock slipping through her arousal, and the drag of him against her made her lose her train of thought.

“He won’t wake up,” Jughead promised with an authority that seemed a bit misplaced, considering what happened the first time they’d done something like this.

Betty was too far gone to stop, so she pushed the inconvenient worry away, leaned forward, and ran her tongue along the swell of his bottom lip.

Jughead parted his lips and deepened the kiss.

Betty’s fingers twisted in his hair as he pressed her into the wall, thrusting once, twice, leaving her throbbing uncomfortably between her thighs. “Juggie,” she whispered, tugging at his hair. “I want to feel you...all of you.”

His hand found her jaw again, pushing her chin up to gain access to her neck, and sucked a bruise into the hollow of her throat, leaving her squirming in his grip.

“Please, Jug…” Betty literally took matters into her own hands then, grabbing the base of his erection and nudging the head of his cock inside of her.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he cried out on a choked exhale. “If we don’t slow down I’m not going to last.”

Her grip tightened around him as she dug her heels into his ass, pulling him fully inside of her with a quick tug.

His forehead fell against hers, gasping into her mouth. “Oh god…”

“Yeah,” she said, on a breathless laugh.

She’d had men before, enjoyed sex for what it was, but it was never like this. Not even close. The perfect stretch of him inside of her, the scent of his skin, the way his fingers dug possessively into her body, leaving impressions in their wake—this was an entirely different animal altogether.

Betty wanted to tell him this, communicate what she was thinking, but instead forced it all back down and enjoyed the experience for what it was. No need to ruin the moment by freaking him out with something she might not be able to walk back later.

His forehead leaned heavily into hers as he stared into her eyes. Their lips grazed each other through heavy breaths as she continued to ride him, and his hips lifted to meet her every stroke.

“I want to touch you,” Jughead said, looking helplessly down to where they were connected, “but if I do I’ll drop you.”

Betty made the mistake of following his gaze and groaned at the sight of him sliding in and out of her, drenching himself more with her arousal on every stroke. She had never been more turned on in her life.

“I’ll do it.” She pressed her fingertips to her entrance, wetting them a little before pressing them to her clit.

Jughead whimpered melodramatically as he watched her rub herself. “You have no idea how badly I want put my mouth on you.” He thrusted faster and harder, pushing himself impossibly deeper into her. “Feel you cum around my tongue...”

Betty’s breath hitched at the mental image, and her legs began to shake.

“I think you’d like that.” He said, voice pained and tight from the effort it took to hold back. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” she cried, bearing down harder on his cock as she neared her peak. “Fuck, yes!”

As she began to climax, Jughead closed his eyes and kissed her hard, swallowing her moans as he fucked her through it. The grip of Betty’s thighs grew weak, and she began to slip down his waist.

“Betty…God, Betty...” He grabbed her ass harder and pressed as far inside of her as he could reach, emptying himself into her with a curse.

After they began to calm down, they slowly untangled, both a little shellshocked.

Betty’s knees bowed as she attempted to put her weight back onto weedy legs, and Jughead quickly gripped her arm, keeping her upright.

They said nothing, just stared at each other in disbelief. Jughead made the first move this time, bending down to gently touch his lips to hers.

When he pulled back again, licking his lips, he wore a look of apprehension. “Was this a one time thing?”

Betty shook her head slowly, and his shoulders dropped in relief. “I think that would be a little naive of us to think that were possible. Not after this.”

Jughead grinned brightly and gathered her into his arms, kissing her so hard her knees threatened to give out again. “Good, because I don’t think I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore.”

“I don’t want you to,” she said against his lips. “Except—“

Jughead abruptly dropped his hands from her body and ran them through his hair, eyes flashing with hurt. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Betty shook her head violently. “No. Stop. That’s not what I meant. I just meant—“ She huffed out frustrated breath and turned Jughead by his shoulders to face J.J.’s bedroom. “We have to be discreet. I don’t want him getting confused.”

“Oh.” Jughead flipped back around to face her. “I’m sorry. I just…I guess I just keep expecting the other shoe to drop.”

“Speaking of shoes,” Betty gestured to their footwear and clothes littering the hallway floor, “Maybe you can help me bring some of this stuff to my bedroom?”

“I could…” Jughead said, his expression lost in thought.

“Jug?”

“I’ll do it later,” He said, definitively, lifting her into a fireman’s carry.

“Jug!” She hissed, in false protest, then made a show of pounding weakly on his back. “Do not make me spank you right now.”

“Later,” He said, through his laughter, gently kneading her ass as he carried her to the bedroom.  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the marathon banging begins...
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter. Either way, I’d really love to hear from you! Hopefully, this time all of your posts will go through properly...if not, you can always reach me on tumblr (same name).
> 
> Thanks for reading and (for those in America) Have a great Memorial Day!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Thanks for such fantastic feedback to the last chapter. It was great getting your reaction!
> 
> As promised, this chapter is a smutfest, so cover your eyes if that’s not your thing.
> 
> Many thanks to ArsenicPanda for cleaning up all of my grammatical and punctuation errors!
> 
> Without further ado, please consume my porn :)

* * *

 

A pulse of vibration under Jughead’s cheek woke him with a start, a silent alarm emanating from the phone buried under his pillow. As he inhaled deeply, the foreign scent of the sheets brought back all his memories from the night before.

 

He turned onto his back, jostling the arm wrapped around his waist, and took in Betty’s nude form: she was sleeping halfway on her stomach, face smushed into his bicep, golden hair fanned across his chest. He’d imagined a morning like this countless times, but the reality of it was so much better than his fantasies. If only he could remain there, wrapped up in her sleepy embrace, but they’d agreed to keep this thing between them discreet to save J.J. from any confusion, so he’d have to retreat to his own bed before the boy awoke.

 

Jughead peeled his damp face from the pillow and sat up. Not even 6 am, and the temperature listed on his phone’s home screen revealed it was already well into the 70’s. With the lack of a functioning compressor, the air conditioner circulated the steamy air inside the bedroom like a convection oven. It could have been 10 degrees warmer in that tinderbox and Jughead would still have chosen to marinate in there a little longer if it meant more time watching Betty sleep.

 

Just because he now could, Jughead brushed his hand lightly over the curve of Betty’s ass, marveling at the shape of it.

 

“Betty,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto the matted strands at her hairline. “Betts. I have to get going?”

 

She shot up in confusion, then dropped back onto her pillow in an awkward slumber.

 

Jughead knew he needed to get his feelings under control before he did or said something that scared her off. Growing up, being shunted from place to place through unfortunate circumstances, he had trained himself not to get too comfortable anywhere. It was dangerous how easily he could imagine himself spending the rest of his life in this apartment. Just because Betty slept with him once didn’t mean she was his to keep; he’d learned the hard way to be careful about getting too attached.

 

With one last look, Jughead quietly slipped out of the bed and collected his clothes and phone, stepping into his boxer shorts before leaving her bedroom to go back to the Murphy bed lying empty in the living room.

 

 

* * *

 

By the time Betty emerged from her bedroom, Jughead and J.J. were just finishing up breakfast. She staggered into the kitchen wearing an old Britney Spears concert t-shirt and a pair of men’s boxers, collapsing into the seat next to J.J.’s before meeting Jughead’s eyes.

 

“Good morning.” Jughead hoped he didn't sound as eager to speak to her as he felt.

 

She smiled and bit her bottom lip. “Yes, it is.”

 

Playing it cool was going to be a challenge if she continued looking at him like she wanted to undress him.

 

“Morning!” J.J. said, copying Jughead’s tone.

 

“Good morning, pumpkin.” Betty leaned forward and kissed J.J. loudly on the cheek.

 

Jughead hopped up to clear the dirty plates before J.J. could get any bad ideas, and brought them to the sink. “Coffee, Betty? You look like you could use some.”

 

“Thank you, Jughead. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She batted her eyes once at him and stretched her arms over her head, exposing her stomach with the motion.

 

“Oh?” He averted his eyes quickly and focused on pouring and doctoring her coffee, because if he watched her twist her lithe body much longer, he was soon going to have a hard time walking. “Not a good night?”

 

He turned around just in time to catch her staring at his ass and raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“Actually,” Betty tapped her index finger against her still-swollen lips, “it was pretty great. How was your night?”

 

“Very pleasant.” He placed the coffee mug in front of her, and she covered his hand with hers before taking the drink.

 

“Thank you.” She gingerly took a sip from the warm mug and set it on the table. “So, does J.J. have ‘Baby Mozart’ today?”

 

“Oh, they’ve rebranded it, again.” Jughead knew he was probably staring at her for too long, so he forced his eyes down to the safety of the table to avoid coming off like a creeper. “It’s now called ‘Baby Yo Yo Ma’. Something about being more multicultural…”

 

“I go music class today,” J.J. leapt from his booster seat and ran off into his bedroom. Betty and Jughead watched him scurry off in a flash of motion.

 

“You heard the man,” Jughead said, gesturing to the empty space where J.J. once sat. They stared at one another for a moment, silence loaded with want, and Jughead checked over Betty’s shoulder for the boy’s return. “Doesn’t seem like he’s coming back just yet.”

 

“No, it doesn’t.” She curled one leg around Jughead’s calf and nudged him toward her, and he followed easily, standing between her parted thighs. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.” He smirked down at her, charmed by her uncharacteristic forwardness. This was an entirely different Betty than he’d eaten breakfast with just one day before. “I was going to ask you how you were feeling about what happened last night, but maybe I don’t have to?”

 

She strung her fingers through the loops of his jeans and tugged him closer. “I’ve been feeling all sorts of things, though one of them is sore _—good_ sore,” she added, just as Jughead was about to apologize to her. “I haven’t used some of those muscles in a while.”

 

Jughead smiled stupidly at her and shook his head. “You’re not the only one. I think I pulled a calf muscle. It’s been a while.”

 

She looked up in surprise at his admission and continued in a low voice, “There are actually a lot of muscles I haven’t used in a while...but I’d like to.”

 

“You can,” he answered quickly. “Any of them—all of them, really.” He brushed her hair back from her face and cupped the back of her neck. “God, I really want to kiss you right now.”

 

“Now?” She glanced over her shoulder nervously then turned back to him and licked her lips as he leaned closer toward her.

 

Just as their lips were about to meet, J.J. ran toward the kitchen with a tambourine in his hand that he loudly smacked against the couch and wall on his way back into the kitchen.

 

Jughead quickly stepped out from between Betty’s legs and poured himself a refill of coffee, hoping a fresh jolt of caffeine would somehow help clear his head.

 

“Music class!” J.J. shrieked, lobbing the tambourine at Jughead’s feet.

 

“Buddy, woah!” Jughead leaned down and grabbed it before J.J. could retrieve it and throw it again.

 

“Why are you so wild?” Betty scooped the giggling kid up onto her lap in one motion.

 

“Fruit Loops.” J.J. stuck out his tongue to show her the colorful stain the cereal he’d eaten had left behind.

 

“Jughead!” She snapped, looking exasperatedly at him. “Did we not just go over this last night? Where did he even get Fruit Loops?”

 

“They might, um,” Jughead methodically stirred his coffee with a spoon to cool it down, “they’re actually mine.”

 

Betty’s head flipped back from the force of her laughter, and Jughead was sure he’d never heard any sound more uplifting.

 

“I should be more surprised,” She said.

 

“I didn’t give them up willingly, though. He stole them.” Jughead aggressively pointed at J.J., “like one of those Boxtrolls. Then, he locked himself in his room and inhaled half the bag.”

 

Betty expression was stuck halfway between amusement and irritation. “You were outrun by a three-year-old?”

 

Jughead dropped his teaspoon on the table with a rattle, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at her. “I may be a little slow today after such a long night.”

 

“Oh.” The attractive blush that appeared on Betty’s cheeks at the memory of their night together caused Jughead’s blood temperature to rise a few degrees.

 

“Yeah.” Jughead took a deep breath and tried to calm down; he hadn’t felt this keyed up since he was a teenager.

 

“Well, I’m on the afternoon shift today, thank God. I’m going to meet Veronica for lunch after she films.” Betty nuzzled her nephew’s hair and rested her chin on his head. “I actually got a strange, cryptic text from her this morning.”

 

Jughead pursed his lips in thought. “I got one from Archie, too. He’s actually meeting us at ‘Baby Yo Yo Ma’ in half an hour. We should probably get going, right J.J?”

 

“Yes!” J.J. weaseled out of Betty’s arms and ran for the shoe rack by the front door.

 

Betty’s eyes widened. “You don’t think Veronica and Archie…”

 

“I mean,” Jughead shrugged, “it wouldn’t be out of character for him.”

 

Her forehead wrinkled, “Yeah, not for her either.”

 

“Either way, I’ll dish the goss when I get it.”

 

“Okay,” Betty said, before adding, “just...minimal details, please.”

 

“Oh Betty, Betty,” Jughead tipped his head to the side and waggled a finger at the picture of Britney on her shirt. “You’re. Not. That. Innocent.”

 

She shot him a saucy look, dropped lower in her chair, and stretched a long leg across the distance between them, pressing her bare foot to his thigh.

 

Jughead’s eyes trailed down the vast expanse of skin, and his mouth ran dry. “When do you get home tonight? Normal time?”

 

She looked at J.J.—struggling to wedge his right foot into his left sneaker—and wiggled her foot closer to Jughead’s crotch. “Unless we get a surprise hurricane and have to batten down the hatches for a rough night.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know…” Jughead grabbed her foot before it could edge any closer, brushing his thumb back and forth over her ankle before setting it on the floor. “You might be in for a rough night either way, Betty.”

 

Her mouth dropped open in a sputtered gasp.

 

Jughead winked at her before leaving the kitchen to help her nephew fix his shoes.

 

* * *

 

‘Baby Yo Yo Ma’ took place once a week in the basement of a small Presbyterian church off Edgecombe Avenue and was presided over by an ageing hippie, whose running discourse on music theory was a bizarre component for a class geared toward a group of small children (some of whom still couldn’t sit up unaided). But even an unwanted lesson on ‘preparatory audiation’ shouted over the infernal racket of 15 toddlers smashing sticks into wooden blocks couldn’t dampen Jughead’s mood.

 

Betty wanted him—and not just for one night. She wanted to pursue something with him, and even though he wasn’t sure exactly what that ‘something’ would look like, it was a million times better than the stolen glances and furtive midnight encounters she’d granted him before.

 

A voice in the back of Jughead’s brain told him not to get too comfortable—that everything could and probably would change for the worst on a dime—but for now, things were looking up, and he wasn’t going to question why or for how long.

 

Jughead was shaken from his thoughts by a loud squeal, followed by J.J.’s voice shouting  ‘ginger power!’ at top volume as the boy jumped up and ran headlong into Archie’s arms with a flying leap.

 

“While I appreciate your enthusiasm, J.J.,” the teacher bellowed, in a nondescript Eastern European accent, over the deafening clanging of symbols, “my percussion section is now missing one of its most important members.”

 

“Sorry.” Archie looked at the wriggling boy in his arms and back up at the teacher apologetically. “He gets a little carried away when I come to these things.”

 

“I understand.” She smiled back at him and gestured for them to take a seat near Jughead. “It’s not every day J.J. has both of his daddies with him in class.”

 

Archie carefully stepped over the discarded instruments that were strewn around the room, and lowered J.J. to the floor.

 

Jughead handed J.J. a pair of castanets that were painted like frogs, then leered seductively at Archie. “Hello, lover.”

 

“You wish,” Archie spat back just before spotting a mini guitar lying on the ground next to his foot. He gasped, lunging for it with a zeal that rivaled the toddlers’. “Nooo! This is so cute!”

 

Jughead laughed at Archie’s pathetic attempts to pluck out a coherent medley on the tiny instrument, despite how dwarfed the thing looked in his large hands. “If you played one of these onstage I might make it my business to attend all your future coffee house gigs.”

 

“You already do attend all my gigs,” Archie said, his eyes squinting as he tried in vain to tune the flimsy toy.

 

Jughead shrugged, “Okay, but I’d definitely enjoy them more if you performed with one of those.”

 

Giving up on the guitar, Archie lifted a string of jingle bells and absently shook them along with the Native American-inspired tune being blasted from the instructor’s portable speakers. “If I didn’t need your advice right now I would throw these at your head.”

 

“We both know that’s a lie.” Jughead picked up his own string of jingle bells, joining in. “I assume this advice relates to a certain brunette Betty brought with her to the gym yesterday?”

 

“Dude…” Archie closed his eyes and took a labored breath, scooting himself closer to Jughead so they could hear each other better. “She’s perfect—it’s—she’s _the_ _one_. I’ve never felt this way about a girl before.”

 

The fact that Archie was now echoing the thoughts that had been running through Jughead’s own mind since last night somehow cheapened the experience for him. Archie had an immense capacity to love, but he liked to spread that love amongst every vaguely-exotic woman he encountered in the tri-state area. “No offense, Arch, but you fall in love every time there’s a supermoon.”

 

“No.” Archie shook his head, gripping the bells in his hand until his knuckles turned white. “This is different. I’m telling you man, my search is over.”

 

Jughead rolled his eyes but decided to play along; he owed his friend that much. “That’s great, Archie, I’m really happy for you. I assume Veronica feels the same way?”

 

Archie’s eyes lit up at her name. “Ronnie said she does.”

 

Well, Jughead certainly wasn’t expecting that. Though Archie was definitely a charming guy, Veronica Lodge didn’t seem like the type of woman who was very easy to impress. “Wow.”

 

“Yeah.” As usual, Archie’s goofy smile was infectious. “Last night was the best night of my whole life.”

 

“About that,” Jughead fidgeted anxiously with a stray lock of hair that had fallen from beneath his hat. “It wasn’t such a bad night for me either.”

 

Archie let out a small squeak of excitement. “What? Oh, shit, no way! I need details right now.”

 

The ancient, Filipina nanny sitting next to them held the Indian baby on her lap closer and tutted at Archie’s use of bad language.

 

“Sorry,” Archie mouthed to her with an exaggerated sad face, instantly winning the woman’s forgiveness, before turning back to Jughead. “Details now.”

 

“We...you know what we did,” Jughead told him euphemistically, trying to keep things clean for any nearby kids.

 

“How was it?”

 

“Intense.” Jughead’s pulse quickened at his memory of the heated look in Betty’s eyes as he first slid inside of her. “Right. It felt _right_ , which can only mean I’m setting myself up for certain annihilation.”

 

“Don’t do that.” Archie clamped a hand over his shoulder, a frown shadowing his face. “I know you’re programmed to always look for the worst possible outcome of every situation, but like, maybe there isn’t one this time?”

 

Jughead huffed out a laugh. “Just because things always work out for you, doesn’t mean they do for everybody. I’m happy you found your girl, Archie, but let’s not pretend we have the same options in that arena.”

 

Archie rubbed a hand over his face, looking frustrated. “Ever consider that you’re the reason nothing ever works out for you? That you never let yourself want things badly enough to risk everything to go after them?”

 

Archie’s words cut Jughead to the bone. Of course, he suspected all of this already, but hearing the point being made by somebody else really drove the message home.

 

Jughead turned the tin bells over in his hand, amazed that so much noise could come from something so small.

 

* * *

 

After running around in the hot sun for several hours and pushing through his nap, J.J. had barely been able to stay conscious long enough for Jughead to bathe him after dinner. By the time Jughead finished reading J.J. his customary three bedtime stories, the little one was down for the count.

 

Afterward, Jughead indulged in a long shower, washing the day off. As he scrubbed himself clean, the scent of Betty’s lavender body wash filled the room, triggering a sense memory of the smells of her skin.

 

Jughead took himself in hand, stroking himself with the soap. He closed his eyes and imagined the hand wrapped around his cock was hers, teasing him to hardness and, eventually, to completion.

 

When he finished rinsing the evidence off the shower wall, Jughead wrapped a towel around his waist before stepping out of the bathroom into the hallway, nearly colliding with Betty.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour,” he said, feeling both desired and self-conscious at the way her eyes took a hungry circuit of his chest.

 

“I gave the chauffeur an extra $20 to drive fast.” She took a tentative step forward, paused for a moment, and pressed her face into his neck. “You smell like me.”

 

Jughead lifted his arms and pulled her body in closer. “I used your body wash. You don’t mind, do you?”

 

Betty leaned back and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, expelling a shaky breath. “No. I like it.”

 

Jughead’s gaze dropped to her lips, and he debated whether it was too soon to try and kiss her. He wanted to more than anything, but he refused to physically make the first move this time. It had to be her. “I’ve been thinking all day about what we did last night.”

 

“Same.” She looked away and chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “I was so distracted all day that I couldn’t read the teleprompter properly at one point. Kevin was pretty mad.”

 

“That so?” Fingers itching to touch her, he cautiously reached out for her face. “I was distracted too, just now...in the shower.”

 

She took a deep breath and leaned her cheek into his palm. “I would’ve liked to have seen that, like that first night I walked in on you.”

 

“Hmm. It's a shame I just finished my shower,” he said, teasing her.

 

Betty fingered the knot securing his towel around his hips. “I think I could probably get you dirty enough to need another one, if that’s what you wanted?”

 

“What do you want?”

 

She brought his hand down to her breast. “This is what I want. Is that—are we still—?”

 

Jughead answered by pulling the knot loose on his towel, sending it to the wooden floor with a thwack.

 

Her chin tipped down to look at him, and he began to immediately harden under her stare.

 

Jughead brought his mouth to her ear and licked the sensitive patch of skin behind it, whispering, “Do you still want me to touch myself for you?”

 

Betty sighed at the offer before taking his cock in her hand. “I’d rather do it myself this time, if that’s okay?”

 

It was more than okay with Jughead, but as he grew impossibly stiff in her tight grip, he became acutely aware that he was standing in the hallway outside of J.J.’s room naked and aroused.

 

“Maybe we should take this somewhere private?” His eyes flicked from J.J.’s room to the bathroom.

 

“Oh my god, I’m an animal.” Now flustered, Betty released him.

 

“I hope so.” He grabbed the towel from the floor and ushered Betty inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

 

She was on him at the click of the lock, a flurry of activity, her mouth pressing kisses to his face, his neck, his chest, pausing only long enough to strip off her own clothes.

 

Before Jughead could catch his breath, her knees had already hit the bathmat and she was lapping at the head of his cock.

 

“Betty, you don’t hav—“ Jughead moaned, then sharply tapped the back of his head against the door to make sure he wasn’t dreaming this. “Holy shit...your mouth.”

 

She looked up at him, smiling brightly with her eyes as she swallowed him down to the root.

 

Jughead had experienced his share of blowjobs in the past, but none of them felt like he was having his life force sucked out through his dick. If this were the moment of his death, he would regret nothing.

 

Her fingers dug into the backs of his thighs as she pulled him into her mouth, further than he ever imagined possible. This couldn’t go on much longer, not if he wanted to last.

 

“Betty...Betty…” Jughead mumbled as the hand he’d wrapped around her ponytail began to bob faster. Her mouth was good—too good—but it was the smug look in her eyes that almost did him in. “Shit, no, Betty…stop.”

 

He gently pulled her off him and stepped away, bracing his arm on the opposite wall to catch his breath.

 

“Did I...was that not right?” She was still on her knees in front of him, limbs now folded to cover her bare chest.

 

Jughead laughed at the absurdity of her question, then leaned down to kiss her, pulling her to stand as they did. “That was amazing. Jesus. If you ever decide to get out of the news game…”

 

Her shoulders relaxed at the praise but then seized up again. “Are you saying that I should become a prostitute?”

 

“What?” The last five minutes were kind of a blur, but Jughead thinks, _hopes_ , he wouldn’t have suggested something as crass as that. _Maybe? Dammit._ ”I didn’t—“

 

“I’m kidding!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “You’re so gullible, it’s adorable.”

 

“By ‘adorable’, I think you mean ‘manly’?” He lifted her by the ass and dropped her on the countertop, stepped between her legs and grinned at her. “God, you’re pretty.”

 

She blushed at the compliment and used her legs to pull him flush against her. “Hi.”

 

“Hi.” Jughead stretched forward to kiss her again, catching his reflection over her shoulder in the vanity mirror. He stared closely at himself, barely recognizing the man in front of him. This was the face of happy man, lighter and freer than he’d ever felt before, a man that good things happened to, not someone whom tragedy followed like an unlucky penny.

 

Betty’s electric smile warmed Jughead like a heat lamp, and a surge of protectiveness bloomed in his chest. Archie had been right when he told Jughead that much of his misery was of his own making, and Jughead knew he couldn’t drag Betty down with him. But, he also didn’t think he could give her up.

 

His life had always been like a vinyl record, with deep scratches and pops that constantly threw the needle of the player out of groove. His existence was warped from the start, nothing ever ran smoothly for him, and he suspected it never would.

 

But he had to move on, needed to, for her.

 

“I really like you, Betty.” Jughead felt sick from the admission, but if he behaved the way he normally did, this relationship would be over before it had begun. “I’m not—this isn’t—it’s not casual for me. With us.”

 

Betty’s eyes grew at his words, and just as Jughead’s mind began to spiral into a cost/benefit ratio on the practicality of sleeping in a campus broom closet until his graduation, she took a deep breath and placed her hand over his heart. “I was really hoping you would say something like that to me.”

 

Jughead’s eyes narrowed at her, unsure he’d heard her correctly. “You...what?”

 

She rolled her eyes and held his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “This isn’t casual for me either. I was just, well, I wasn’t expecting to hear you say that.”

 

His face was creased with concern. How much of an asshole did he have to be to give her the impression she was just another lay to him. “You thought I was using you?”

 

“Oh, Jug.” She pressed their foreheads together, and he closed his eyes at the intimacy of it. “I never thought you were using me, we’ve just lived together long enough that I know how cautious you are about people.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You never call your sister when I’m at home—it took you months to tell me anything about your family or even introduce me to Archie.”

 

“I’m sorry,” He said, stomach dropping at the idea of making her feel unwanted. “I’m not good with people...or maybe they’re just not good with me? Either way, the result is the same, so I tend to hold the few people I love close.”

 

“I like you as you are, evasive tactics and everything.” Her fingers toyed soothingly with the wet strands at the back of his hairline. “But, I also want to know you better.”

 

Ever the skeptic, Jughead arched an eyebrow at her. “You say that now, but what happens when we’re 50 and you still don’t know my middle name?”

 

“I’ll just make one up that’s so horrible you’ll have to tell me the right one to get me to stop using it in public.” She tugged gently on the scruff of his hair. “Maybe, I’ll decide to call you something truly hideous, like…Pendleton.”

 

Jughead shot her a flat look and rested his hands heavily on her shoulders. “If only they gave out Peabody Awards for snooping for private details about the men in your life.”

 

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She planted a kiss on the end of his nose.

 

Betty was gorgeous—her plush features both soft and assertive all at once—far more beautiful than he probably deserved, but it was her kind and generous spirit that he found most arresting. Whatever bullshit he’d done to sabotage his past relationships couldn’t happen here, not with her. He knew what he had to do.

 

“Do you want to meet my sister?” He asked, wondering briefly if this was what it felt like to jump out of an airplane without a parachute.

 

“Yes,” Betty answered quickly and punctuated her response with an emphatic nod. “I’d really like that, Jug.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They shared a nervous laugh, which broke a bit of the tension between them.

 

“Now that we’ve passed the angst portion of the evening...where were we?” Betty reached down and stroked his cock with her hand.

 

“I believe we were right...here.” Jughead slipped a finger inside of her and pumped it a few times, his other hand gripping her thigh for balance. “Do you trust me?”

 

She spread her legs wider for him, allowing him to add another finger. “You take care of my nephew, of course I trust you.”

 

“Good.” As Jughead added a third finger, she hiccuped a breath and grabbed his cock harder. He hissed, still sensitive from her earlier attention. “I’m going to fuck you right in front of this mirror, Betty, and I don’t want you to close your eyes.”

 

Her expression quirked with hesitant interest. “You want me to—“

 

“You’re going to watch as I take you apart.” He withdrew his fingers from Betty, then pushed them into his mouth to lick them clean. She whispered a curse at the sight. “Hop down and put your hands on the mirror.”

 

Without questioning it, Betty followed his instruction, placing her hands flat on the mirror in front of her. “What now?”

 

Jughead smirked at her reflection and sank to his knees behind her. “Hang on.”

 

Betty let out a shocked moan as his tongue dragged over the curve of her ass and beyond. He’d been dreaming about tasting her for weeks, her scent, the feel of her soft skin under his tongue. He didn’t wash his hand the night she’d allowed him to get her off. He went back to his bed, slipped that same hand under his blankets, and took his frustration out on himself until he passed out.

 

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as he parted her from behind and dragged his tongue up through her folds. “Jughead, fuck.”

 

By the time he pulled her down to sit on his face, her moans were tight in her throat, hand loudly slapping the surface of the mirror. Unable to see, he slipped his hand through her thighs and felt around for her clit, rubbing slow circles against it as she began to rock against his mouth.

 

Betty was grinding herself onto his face and still taking from him what she needed when her legs began to shake. His tongue was so deep inside of her at this point he wasn’t sure where their connection began. He hummed against her, forcing high-pitched, breathy noises from her as she came with a scream, her elbows collapsing awkwardly onto the counter from the strain of holding herself up.

 

Not wanting to rush her, he patiently licked her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, his knees only leaving the ground once she’d gone still.

 

“Holy shit, Pendleton.” Betty mumbled into the countertop before turning to reveal her flushed face. “On what planet did you learn how to do that? Those are not Earth skills.”

 

Jughead wiped his face off on a nearby hand towel, internally preening at the compliment. “Did you watch yourself cum?”

 

Self-conscious, Betty sighed and shifted her weight, avoiding looking at her reflection. “I didn’t know I could look so....” Her words trailed off as his hand ran down her back, his fingers catching on each knob of her spine until they reached her ass.

 

“Sexy?” He suggested.

 

She pillowed her arms under her chin and made eye contact with him through the mirror. “Debauched.”

 

Jughead leaned his erection against the back of her thigh to relieve some pressure. “You’re gorgeous.”

 

Betty twisted around and kissed him deeply, slipping her tongue into his mouth. “Fuck me,” she demanded against his lips. “I want to feel you everywhere.”

 

Her hair had come mostly loose, and what wasn’t wild was sticking to her neck. He brushed a few sweaty strands from her face. “Put your hands back on the mirror.”

 

Jughead felt a rush of power as Betty did as he asked.

 

“Is this weird?” His lips were pursed in though as he pressed the entire front side of his body against her back. “You’d tell me if you didn’t like it, right?”

 

“It is weird.” She threaded her fingers through his and brought both their hands to her breasts. “But, that’s why I like it?”

 

He lowered one of his hands between her legs and pressed the heel of his palm against her clit. Her back arched against him, head tipped back against his shoulder, as his finger dipped inside of her again. “You’re so wet for me.”

 

“I’m still sensitive.” She pressed her face into his neck and lightly bit the underside of his jaw.

 

“I know.” The acute gasp Betty made as Jughead pressed himself inside of her was the sexiest noise he’d ever heard in his life. In the mirror, he watched her writhe against him, rising and falling on her toes to build up a rhythm. She whimpered as he pinched her nipple and slid his hand up the column of her neck. “Look at yourself.”

 

The snap of his hips against her ass opened her eyes, and she watched him fuck her from behind. “I look…”

 

“I know.” Thumb tilting her chin up, he mouthed the side of her neck, nipping at the tendon until it turned a mottled purple.

 

As Jughead’s strokes grew rougher, Betty braced her hands on the edge of the vanity for support. “I’m not…oh shit, I think I’m—“

 

Her body shook as she came apart around him, gripping him so hard he couldn’t help but follow her. The vanity was holding both their weight now as they struggled to regain their bearings. Betty recovered first and turned around, wrapping him tightly in a hug.

 

He was still pulling out of a stupor when she started giggling against his neck. “Oh god. I think I started going blind at one point.”

 

Jughead hugged her back and smiled into her hair. “Me too.”

 

Arms dropping to his waist, she hopped onto the counter and fixed him with a serious expression. “I never thought—“ she shook her head, changing course. “This thing between us, the intensity, it can only end one way. You know that, right?”

 

The familiar emptiness Jughead felt his whole life began to creep in and take residence in his chest, but instead of running from the cause of it, he reached for her face with both hands. “Why does it have to end?”

 

“I don’t want it to.” Betty’s eyes darted to the ground, and the muscles in her jaw stiffened under his palms. “There are just...things about me you don’t know yet. Things you may not like.”

 

“I like everything about you.” Jughead realized this was true the moment he voiced the thought. “I don’t think there’s anything at this point you could do that would make me feel differently.”

 

Betty‘s features crinkled in disbelief. “I know you believe that—“

 

“It’s true,” he insisted, tightening his hold on her face. “You said you trusted me, trust that I’m telling you the truth. Okay?”

 

She swallowed hard as she took in his words, then bobbed her head once in agreement, but a modicum of fear still stained her expression. “Okay, Juggie.”

 

Jughead decided that whatever secret Betty was hoarding couldn’t possibly be any worse than what he’d already been through, and even if it was, she was worth the trouble.

 

“Come on.” He marched her toward the shower and turned the hot water on, giving it time to warm up. “You can make me smell like you again.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that happened. Did you enjoy it? I hope the sex was hot and didn’t become tedious after several pages of straight up porn. I can’t tell after staring at it for so long.
> 
> As always, thanks so much for reading. If you feel like letting me know your reactions to this chapter, I always love hearing them!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey! It took less than a week, readers, and I’m giving you a chapter that’s 50% longer (the name of my sex tape?) than usual. Also, you’re getting some more envelope-pushing smut.
> 
> I should probably warn you to buckle up for angst—BUT—don’t worry, this fic will not turn into Angstfest 2018. Promise. Gotta have some obstacles for them to get through or there’s no story to tell.
> 
> Many thanks to ArsenicPanda for saving me from typos, awkward sentences, grammatical errors, and truly bizarre AO3 formatting issues. (Kiss emoji)

* * *

July turned into August and eventually September, and the sweltering heat that plagued the city all summer gave way to a drier and mellower fall. Unfortunately, the slightly cooler temperatures also brought with them unpredictable weather. As cold and warm fronts collided, the result was an often dangerous explosion of chaos that could change without much warning.

“I hate you! Will you just go?” Betty was scowling, one fist digging into her hip as she attempted to shoo Jughead out the front door. “If you stand there any longer in those black-rimmed glasses and tight pants, so help me, Jughead, you will not make it to your meeting today.”

“These pants?” Jughead turned around slowly, making a show of it, then pulled a pen from the front of his messenger bag and dropped it on the floor. “Oops.”

“You think that’s funny?” Betty tried not to be obvious while watching Jughead bend over to retrieve the writing utensil. “You’re a little shit, you know that, right?”

He slipped the pen back into his bag and shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She closed the few feet between them and grabbed him by his tie, tugging it down until his face was level with hers. “I really should punish you for that.”

“How?” He gave her an eager smile, pupils dilated, a sea of endless black.

“Maybe you’ll find out later…” Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she leaned in, barely grazing his lips with her own, before sharply releasing the tie and patting him affectionately on the chest. “Or, maybe not.”

“Wait—what?” Jughead was visibly shaken by the verbal whiplash. “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘Maybe not’?”

“You’ll find out when you come home, won’t you?” Betty smoothed his tie down again and refastened it in the clip.

“That’s a pretty bold assumption that I’m coming home. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” He flashed a smug grin, but Betty knew he couldn’t wait to get back to her.

Ever since the night Betty and Jughead gave into baser impulses, their lives had become more closely intertwined. There were rules of conduct in place to keep their relationship in check, but as time passed, caveats were made and loopholes discovered, any way to push boundaries without having to name what was between them. They promised to keep things professional, sleep apart, take things slowly, but all that fell by the wayside every time she walked in the door after a long day at work.

Jughead was on her mind from the moment she left the studio and remained firmly there until she arrived back on set the next day. Even while at the studio, there was nonstop texting between them, everything from cat memes to what they should buy for dinner. It had been six weeks, and she already couldn’t remember what her life had been like before him and this.

That didn’t mean they’d defined things between them. It would—of course—require them to have ‘the talk’, something they both seemed loath to do. She knew it was hard for him to trust people, and she didn’t want to push things.

Then there were her issues, which had lain dormant for so long. Despite Betty’s best efforts, they were slowly beginning to emerge like weed shoots in early spring, poised to strangle the life out of anything that dared to grow nearby. Her nights had become shorter, she’d been pacing the floorboard of the kitchen, feeling an unnamed impulse to do something she couldn’t explain. But it was there and getting worse, and it was only a matter of days or hours before it peaked and she could breathe again.

It would most likely also be when he left her.

Betty couldn’t handle a rejection from another man. Not this one. So, she would leave things between them undefined and bury her secrets deep until she had no other choice but to address them.

“Betty?” Jughead snapped his fingers, pulling her attention. “You still with me?”

“Always,” she said, meaning it more than she ever had.

Jughead was eternally handsome to her, but the ‘rumpled professor’ look was really working for her in ways that were embarrassing, especially knowing he’d find her interest hilarious.

Betty wrapped her arms around his neck and played with the hair along his collar. “Have I mentioned how much I hate you right now, Jughead Jones??”

The smug grin from earlier softened into a sweet smile. “I hate you too, Betty Cooper.”

“Juggie! Don’t go!” J.J. ran into the room like a dervish, his face red and wet with tears.

Betty dropped her arms quickly from Jughead’s neck and put some physical distance between them.

Jughead crouched to wrap her distraught nephew in a hug. “Buddy, don’t cry. It’s just one day.”

“No!” J.J. buried his face in Jughead’s chest and used his tie as a tissue. “Stay. I want you to stay.”

Jughead sighed and brushed the boy’s hair back from his damp face, then looked apologetically up at Betty. “I could take him with me, if you want?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, he can survive one day without you and I already took off from work.” Betty sat down on the floor next to them and began to rub J.J.’s back. “This is an important day for you, Jug. You can’t concentrate on your work if you’re chasing after a baby the whole time.”

“I am not a baby!” J.J. wailed, devolving into wracked sobs again.

Jughead huffed his exasperation at Betty and patted J.J’s shoulder paternally. “No, buddy, you’re a big kid. Everybody knows that.”

“I am a big kid.” J.J. wiped his runny nose on Jughead’s tie one more time and blinked up at him with wide green eyes. “Why do you leave?”

Jughead looked helplessly toward Betty for assistance. “How do I explain the concept of doing a practice run to defend my dissertation to a three-year-old?”

Betty gently dislodged J.J. from Jughead’s arms and pulled him onto her lap. “Juggie has to go to school today, just like you’re going to be starting school in a week.”

“I go to school,” J.J. informed her.

“I know,” Betty answered patiently, already dreading the rest of the day. This was the third time J.J. had this same tantrum and it wasn’t even 10 am.

“I’m coming back, I promise.” Jughead kissed the top of J.J’s head and lifted himself off the floor with a groan, frowning at the wet spot he noticed on his tie. “The tie isn’t really me anyway.” He pulled it off and discarded it on the couch without another glance.

It was strange for Betty, being the one left home, but it was something she was going to have to get used to the closer Jughead got to his actual dissertation defense. And, once he’d earned his doctorate, he would likely want to take a professorship. If she didn’t prepare herself now, when would the time be?

Betty’s head began to swim, and her chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. This was absolutely the worst moment for her to have an anxiety attack and far too early to allow Jughead a glimpse behind her carefully constructed facade. She knew he was strong and could probably deal with her myriad of psychological issues, but there was no guarantee that he would even want to. He told her to trust him, and God, she wanted to, but she’d also trusted the other men she’d dated, and most had turned tail and run after they first witnessed her having an episode.

“Betts?” Jughead’s brow furrowed, and he took a step closer. “Are you o—“

“What if—“ She blurted out, not knowing exactly what she was going to say but desperate to distract him from her current state. “What if we met you later on today? There are green spaces on campus where we could play with a ball until you’re out. My cousin, Cheryl, is back from France and we were supposed to meet her for lunch, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind coming uptown for an impromptu picnic with me and J.J. We can all go home together and clean up before your sister comes over.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Jughead’s hand lightly rested on J.J.’s head, but his gaze never left Betty. His head tilted as he looked her over, assessing her for signs of who-knows-what, a questioning look on his face. And just when she thought he might not let it go, he turned his focus to J.J. “What do you say to that, kid? Do you want to come to my school today?”

“Yes!” J.J.’s face lit up, and he threw himself toward Jughead’s leg, nearly toppling him over as he tackled him. Betty grabbed J.J. off Jughead in the nick of time, then fought to restrain the boy’s flailing limbs as he tried valiantly to slip away.

“You’d better go before he gets loose again.” Betty made herself breathless tickling her nephew to keep him in place. “Good luck, Jug!”

“I think you’ll need it more than I do right now. I’ll see you soon, baby.” Jughead turned to leave but immediately stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t the first time he’d let an endearment slip in front of J.J., and Betty couldn’t deny the thrill that rippled through her every time one did.

“Sorry.” His shoulders rose and fell on a labored breath, and he walked out the front door.

 

* * *

 

Under the shade of a large golf umbrella, in the middle of a neat rectangular patch of grass on Columbia University’s main quad, Betty lay on her back staring at the cumulus clouds above. They were sparse in number but fluffy like spun sugar and hung low in the azure sky, not particularly interesting, but they did get her out of her own head.

After Jughead left that morning, Betty quickly braided her hair, threw a blanket and a couple of toys into a straw beach bag, and took the bus with J.J. down to the gourmet specialty store Gastronomie. Cheryl might be willing to come uptown to see J.J., but Betty would need to provide apology macarons if she was going to lure her into staying more than 15 minutes.

Cheryl Blossom had been in Paris all summer buying women’s accessories for Bendel's, a small couture department store off Fifth Avenue. They hadn’t always been close, nor had they always known they were cousins, but once her brother, Jason, proved himself to be a deadbeat, Cheryl stepped up in his place and eventually became a true friend to Betty.

The rim of a large hat popped into Betty’s view, blocking out the sun. “Bonjour mon cousin ridicule!”

“Cheryl!” Betty smiled and let the redhead pull her into a hug. “Nous saluons le retour.”

“Very impressive Elizabeth. Alice Cooper would be happy to know all those hours at French club weren’t a complete waste.” Cheryl shook out the wrinkles from her airy, crimson halter dress and pushed her oversized sunglasses further back on her nose. How she managed to be glamorous in 80 degree heat was a secret Betty would probably never learn. “What exactly am I looking at here, Gretel?”

Betty laughed, suddenly self-conscious of her unkempt braids and her plain, blue sundress. “You’re looking at the quad at Columbia University. Remember I told you J.J.’s nanny, Jughead, is doing his doctorate here?”

A look of vague recognition crossed Cheryl’s face. “Right. I think I recall your mother bitching about him over the phone...something about all male nannies being latent sex offenders. Not a fan of subverted gender roles, is she?”

Alice Cooper wasn’t a fan of much.

“She just hasn’t met him yet. He’s amazing with kids and J.J. just adores him. He’s also not a sex offender, obviously.” Betty gestured to J.J., who was playing with a pretty college student and her dog. “See? Totally fine.”

Cheryl squealed and then pushed her lower lip out in a pique. “I can’t believe how big he’s gotten since I’ve been gone.”

“He’s doing really well...all things considered.” Betty had done her best to put her anger regarding Polly and Jason’s irresponsibility out of her mind, but it was a daily struggle.

Cheryl sighed her disappointment at the their shared family trials and flung a limp hand in the direction of the gingham picnic blanket. “So, is this some sort of social experiment, or—“

“This is lunch, you big drama queen. Have a seat and eat your bunny food.” Betty placed a vegan hummus and sprout sandwich on a paper plate and patted the ground next to her. “I even bought you macarons from Gastronomie.”

Cheryl regarded the blanket for a moment (Betty assumed she was probably checking it for cooties), but eventually deigned to lower herself onto it, legs elegantly twisted together like a 1950’s debutante. “Why have you summoned me to this bastion of oversized, logo-ed t-shirts and premature ejaculation? Are you trolling for _le beau gosse_?”

“Of course not!” Betty blushed and looked around her. “We’re just here waiting for Jughead to be finished.”

“Is this nanny you’ve employed...outdoorsy?” Cheryl inflected the word in a way that couldn’t mean anything good.

“No.” Betty laughed, imagining the wild reaction Jughead might have to that question. “J.J. had a meltdown at the prospect of them spending one day apart, so here we are.”

Cheryl’s eyes followed their nephew as he chased the small puppy in a circle. “If that’s the reaction J.J. has to missing one day with him, how’s he going to react when Dr. Nanny suddenly becomes employable and flies the coop?”

Betty’s earlier dizziness crept in again, so she rested the apple she was eating on her plate and took a large, meditative breath.

“He told me that he wanted to always be a part of J.J.’s life in some way,” Betty said, more for her own benefit than Cheryl’s.

Cheryl’s expression shifted into a vague approximation of pity. “Oh, honey, that’s what they all say. What’s he supposed to tell you? That all you two are to him is a warm Murphy bed and three square meals until he gets a real job and can afford an elbow-patch, tweed blazer of his very own?”

Betty’s heart thudded against her rib cage at the prospect of Jughead leaving them. “You don’t—he’s not like that, Cheryl. You don’t know him.”

“Look, all I’m saying is you need to manage our nephew’s expectations.” Cheryl lifted her hands up, cherry red nails making her almost look like a feral predator—and,, much like a predator, Cheryl could sense when another animal was wounded. “Oh...or maybe J.J. isn’t the only one who needs to manage their expectations?”

“What?” Betty shrugged her shoulders in an attempt to play dumb. “I don’t…”

Clearly smelling blood, Cheryl narrowed her eyes. “What is he to you, Betty?”

Betty could’ve tried fighting this conversation a bit longer, but she’s didn’t have the will to lie about it anymore—especially  to herself. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?” Cheryl’s expression was dubious, as if Betty’s romantic ignorance were somehow unreasonable.

Laughter bubbled out of Betty’s throat, low and with an edge of mania. She had been doing so well, finally achieving a long, uninterrupted stretch of even road. But, with her new job responsibilities and the unexpected stressor of being tasked with raising J.J., the added worry of figuring out her romantic relationship might well have been her tipping point. “Shit.”

Cheryl raised her brows, a worried look on her face. Coming from the same cursed bloodline, she was always the first to recognize the signs. “You seem...is everything okay, cousin? I’m not just talking about this entanglement with your nanny whom you’re _obviously_ fucking—no judgment—but rather whatever the hell has you vibrating at a frequency no humans can hear.”

Betty wondered if she shook her head long enough she’d be able to clear the irrational thoughts from it like an etch-a-sketch.

“I’m perfectly fine. “ Betty lifted the bright red apple from her plate and took another bite, hand rushing to catch the juice as it sluiced inelegantly down her chin.

Cheryl scoffed loudly. “Oh please, I could practically see your soul departing your body just now.”

Betty carefully chewed the bite of apple and put the core back down on the plate. “Aren’t you eating your sandwich, Cheryl?”

Arms crossed her over her chest, Cheryl was characteristically tenacious. “You know I never eat lunch and your diversionary tactics won’t work on me, Cooper, so spill.”

Betty was embarrassed by her weakness, and voicing the truth felt too close to admitting defeat. “I’m fine. Really. Jughead’s been a great help with J.J., and I’m just—I’m doing field segments now at work, which is time consuming and a little stressful, but Toni’s great and makes it all a lot easier to bear—“

“Bitch, please.” Cheryl looked mildly angry now, which for a normal person was a Chernobyl-style meltdown. “Your mind is going a mile a minute. Are you even sleeping?”

With a minuscule shake to the head, Betty conceded the truth in a quiet voice. “Some.”

Cheryl’s hand dropped on top of Betty’s, pulling her out of her shame-spiral. “I know you think you can do everything without help, but you’ve got a kid to watch now. Go to the fucking doctor, okay? Take it from somebody who’s been there.”

“I...I don’t want Jug to know.” Betty bit her lip and tried to hold back the tears. “He’s—I never thought I’d meet somebody like him. He just gets me. But this...I don’t know how he’ll react.”

“If he’s such a great guy, then he’ll step up and be a mensch about it.” Cheryl helped herself to a diet cherry soda from the small cooler Betty brought with her. “Do not let yourself go literally nuts trying to keep this thing from a guy.”

Betty nodded solemnly, knowing Cheryl was right, but she still couldn’t help but want to hold onto this patch of normalcy for as long as she could.

“Now that the ugly drama is out of the way, tell me what this guy is like in bed before J.J. notices I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes.” Cheryl leaned in, conspiratorially. “Is his dick big?”

Taking a sip of Cheryl’s soda, Betty cleared her throat. “Define big.”

From the corner of her eye, Betty noticed someone familiar walking the perimeter and smiled.

“Is that the squatter who watches our baby for food and pocket change?” Cheryl pulled her sunglasses down to the edge of her nose to get a better look. “Not bad. Good hair. Who’s the blonde bombshell with him? She’s not so bad, either.”

“I don’t know?” Betty assumed the blonde was maybe one of Jughead’s colleagues until the woman threw her arms around him, hugged him close for an unusually long time, and whispered something in his ear. “Maybe someone in his cohort?”

“Well, she’s certainly getting handsy for a cohort. Want me to lure her away from him using my considerable wiles?”

Swallowing down her jealousy, Betty smiled tightly. “It’s a lovely offer, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself to a hot blonde for me is truly touching.”

Betty raised her hand, catching Jughead’s attention. He leaned toward his companion and said something while pointing in Betty’s direction. The woman nodded, and they walked over together.

“This is quite a setup you’ve got here.” Jughead’s eyes swept the picnic area and eventually landed on Cheryl. “I assume you’re Cousin Cheryl.”

“You assume correctly. Enchante.” Without getting up, Cheryl extended her hand, which Jughead awkwardly shook. “And you are…?” She asked, blinking up at the blonde, who looked uncomfortable but not unfriendly.

“Oh, this is Sabrina. We’re in the same program.” Jughead physically presented her to Cheryl and Betty. “This is who I was telling you about before, Sab.”

“Oh! You’re Jughead’s boss. It’s really nice to meet you, Ms. Cooper, I’ve heard so many nice things about you and little J.J.”

Cheryl’s gaze narrowed and cut sharply to Betty.

The formal nature of the exchange made Betty feel nauseated. Was he really only telling people she was his boss? Not even a friend?

“It’s nice to meet you, too, but please call me Betty. Jughead does.” Betty’s eyes flicked up to his, but his expression was unreadable.

“Thanks, I will.” Sabrina turned to Jughead, Betty and Cheryl now completely forgotten. “I really have to jet, but it was fantastic catching up with you. Coffee soon, Juggie?”

“You bet.” Jughead looked ill at ease as Sabrina pressed a kiss to his cheek and left.

Sabrina looked over her shoulder at Jughead as she walked away, and called out, “think about my offer!”

Cheryl quickly stood up and pointed toward J.J. “Cousin Betty and I were so busy gossiping, I haven’t had the chance to kiss my gorgeous nephew yet. You don’t mind if I leave you alone with _Ms. Cooper_ , do you?”

“I think I can bear it.” Jughead lifted a hand to say goodbye a beat too late.

The air outside was stifling, but Betty knew it wasn't just the temperature that was affecting her mood. She pressed Cheryl’s abandoned soda bottle against her neck to try and cool down, and scrambled to her feet. “I think I need to get out of the sun a bit.”

“Are you okay?” That concerned look that Betty was growing to hate appeared on Jughead’s face, and she closed her eyes to block it.

“I’m great.” She cringed at the chipper edge to her voice, far too forced to be genuine. “I’m just a little tired from the sun. Maybe I should go home and have a rest before tonight...unless that’s cancelled?”

Jughead seemed taken aback by her question. “Why would it be cancelled? Do you _want_ it to be cancelled?”

His shoulders dropped and he rubbed a hand over his face, looking defeated. Despite Betty’s insecurities, this wasn’t the kind of reassurance she was after. She had no desire to trade her own neurosis for his.

“No. I don’t want to cancel.” She latched onto his sleeve and pulled his hand from his face. “I’m looking forward to meeting Jellybean. I’ve never met a man’s family before.”

“Good.” He gave her a shy smile, then glanced over his shoulder at J.J.—currently being smothered with kisses by Cheryl—and tangled his fingers with Betty’s. “I've never brought a woman home, before, either.”

“Then, there’s an equal chance we’ll both fuck this up, which is...oddly comforting.”

”I know you said you’ve never had a guy bring you home, but have you never brought anyone back to meet your family?”

Betty wrinkled her nose as bad memories flipped through her mind like a Filofax full of her failures. “Even if there were a man who stayed with me long enough that I’d want to bring him home, I couldn’t have subjected him to my family.”

Jughead wrapped the ends of her braids around his index fingers and used them to pull her toward him. “We all have crazy families, Betty.”

“Not this kind of crazy,” she whispered, not able to meet his eyes.

Jughead checked for J.J. over his shoulder and quickly pressed his mouth against hers. “Do you think your cousin would watch him for a few hours?”

“Why?” Betty blinked her eyes at him innocently. “Do you have some chores you need my help with?”

“It’s never a chore getting you off, baby,” he said, and kissed her again.

 

* * *

 

Betty’s head smacked into the key rack as they tumbled into the apartment, already in the process of pulling off their clothes. “Ow.”

Jughead rubbed the bump on the back of her head with one hand as he tugged the straps of her sundress down with the other, revealing her bare chest. “I knew you weren’t wearing a bra. I knew it! This dress is my new favorite.”

“Oh, are you a breast man? I hadn’t noticed.”

“With you, I’m an everything man.” He untucked his button-down and lifted it over his head in one move, tossing it on to the floor in a clump. “Jesus, you turn me into a Neanderthal.”

“I’m really disgusting and sweaty right now.” Betty tried to twist away from him, but he caught her around the waist in an iron grip and wouldn’t let go. “I’ve been outside all afternoon, Jug.”

“Don’t care.” He didn’t take her complaints seriously—probably due to the way she was running her hands all over his chest—and backed her toward the couch, nearly tripping over his crumpled shirt in the process. “Neither do you. Not really.”

He was hungrily biting his way up her neck, one hand roughly cupping her left breast as the other dove under her skirt and rubbed her through the wet fabric. “I’ve been dying to fuck you on this couch ever since that night we watched _Mindhunter_ together. Who knows when we’ll ever get another chance with J.J.’s spider nightmares bringing him out here at all hours of the night?”

Betty leaned forward and yanked his zipper down. “I really wanted you that night, too.”

Jughead pressed a finger to Betty’s lips, and she dutifully opened her mouth for him, getting it wet. “I could cum just from watching you do this.”

She released the finger at his signal, and he tucked it under her dress, pulling her underwear aside, sliding it through her arousal and into her ass by mistake.

“Oh God,” she sucked in a breath, back arching off the couch at the strange sensation.

“Was that a good ‘Oh God’ or a bad one?” His eyes widened when he realized his error. “Sorry, my finger slipped.”

She grabbed his arm as he started to remove his hand. “Wait.”

“You...want me to leave it?”

“I don’t—I don’t know yet. Keep going.” She panted into his ear as his finger pumped into her slowly. Even the idea of him touching her in such an intimate and dirty way made her wetter.

Limbs half-hanging off the couch with his pants around his knees, teeth clenched almost painfully against her neck tendon, Jughead lined himself up and pressed the head of his cock into her and paused. “How about now? Still okay?”

Betty’s head fell back with a gasp, and she dug her heels into his back to get him to continue. “Yeah, come on.”

“Oh fuck, this is hot.” Jughead’s face was red from the effort of holding himself back, as he slowly inched his way inside of her, gauging her face for any discomfort while pushing his finger deeper into her ass. “Do you feel full?”

“So full.” She nodded, tightly, unable to say more, then grabbed his hair with both hands and pressed his mouth against hers for a bracing kiss.

He peppered her face with kisses—her cheek, her nose, her eyes—dragging his lips across her forehead and then back into her mouth. “I want you so much.”

“I want you, too,” she whispered against his lips. “Fuck me harder, Jug.”

Jughead groaned into her mouth with his first real thrust, so hard the couch shifted and scraped against the wood floor. “You feel tighter...fuck.”

His finger rocked into her ass in tandem with his cock, an insistent counterpoint of pressure that pitched her pelvis forward, allowing him to hit her at an angle he’d never found before.

“Right there…don’t move...” She couldn’t think straight anymore, he was everywhere all at once. And, before she could register her release starting to build, her vision blurred and she let out a scream, cumming so hard she nearly whited-out.

When she opened her eyes again, Jughead was braced over her and kissing the soft dander at her hairline. “Oh my god, baby. Was that okay?”

Betty glanced at the walls of her apartment feeling more peaceful than she had all day. They were no longer closing in on her, and the buzzing under her skin that was keeping her on edge had quieted for now. “It was perfect.”

He was a warm weight in Betty’s arms, grounding and solid. She had grown to depend on him in such a short time and was petrified knowing his continuing presence in her life was not a given. It was probably just paranoia, irrational thoughts lurking in the shadowy places of her mind and trying to lure her into darkness.

She should tell him. She _had_ to tell him.

She wouldn’t tell him.

She might be in love with him.

Betty had already resigned herself to wringing every last drop of time she could get with Jughead before he realized just how much trouble she was and ran. And he would. They all did.

“Juggie?” She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing just a little too tightly, enjoying the feeling of him softening inside of her. “This is the best part of my day.”

He blinked up at her and smiled. “Mine, too, Betts...is what I _would’ve_ said before you made those poached eggs with bearnaise sauce for me last week. I thought they could only do those in restaurants. Now—I don’t know, sex with you is kind of a toss up for me with breakfast.”

She fake laughed at his joke and carefully traced the bone around his eye with her fingertip—a pale blue sky, cloudless and calm. “I’d offer to combine them for you, but even I have limits for what I’m willing to do for you in bed.”

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her, every inch a smug professor with the answer key. “We’ll see.”

She pinched his side in retaliation. “Hey, you never told me what happened at Columbia today.”

“It was fine.” He quickly began to extricate himself from her embrace, using the crumpled up shirt on the floor to clean himself up. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a real towel.”

Betty sat up, perplexed by his evasion. “That’s it? You were there all morning.”

He stood up and stretched his legs, unashamed of his nakedness. “What else is there to say? You really wouldn’t get the subtleties of the critique unless you’d read my rough draft.”

“So I’ll read your rough draft, and then you can tell me everything.”

“I honestly don’t think you would find it very interesting. It’s over 100 pages and kind of dry.”

“Just so I’m clear, I wouldn’t find it interesting to read, but you can’t tell me anything about it if I don’t, because then I wouldn’t get the ‘subtleties’?” As Betty stood up to confront him, she remembered a little too late that he hadn’t gotten her a towel yet and felt something leaking down the inside of her leg. “Dammit.” She grabbed the shirt from his hands and pressed it between her thighs. “If I wasn’t filthy before…”

Jughead leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you go take a shower?”

As he bent down to collect the rest of their clothes, Betty’s journalist antennae began to tweak. “Why don’t you want me to read your dissertation, Jughead?”

He stalled for a moment, and Betty wondered what was driving this caginess. Whatever it was, he obviously wasn’t going to tell her any time soon.

“The shower sounds like a great idea,” she grumbled, stomping off to the bathroom with as much dignity as a woman with a semen-stained dress shirt shoved between her thighs could manage.

He didn’t even bother going after her.

 

* * *

 

With J.J. back in the apartment soon after her shower, Betty hadn’t had the time or the energy to have the kind of talk with Jughead that they needed to have. They hadn’t done much talking at all, both opting to busy themselves with separate household tasks to get the place in order for Jellybean’s imminent arrival.

“He’s asleep.” Betty quietly shut .J.J.’s door behind her and walked into the living room, where Jughead was fussing with the throw pillows on the sofa. “All of that sun did him in, along with the sugar crash from whatever assortment of foreign chocolates Cheryl pumped him full of.”

“Why do you have so many decorative couch objects?” Jughead scowled at the small brocade throw pillow that he was struggling to find an appropriate place for. “Nobody sees these things but us.”

“I had a life before J.J. moved in, Jughead. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I did.”

Jughead’s eyes dropped to the floor. “I know you did.”

She removed the pillow from his hands and placed it in the center of the couch at an angle. “I had friends, romantic dates, a social life...”

“That makes one of us.”

It was petty of her, trying to make him feel insecure, but her ego was still stinging from their earlier exchange. Still, she didn’t want to hurt him. She was only hurting herself in the long run. “I don’t regret it, though. Any of it.”

His eyes followed her as she circled around to him—her fingers drifting along the spine of the couch—chin tipping up as she inched closer to him. “Betty—“

“Jug—“

The ‘Mexican Hat Dance Song’, which they’d programmed as their doorbell ringer, sounded loudly in the apartment and disrupted their moment.

“Shit. That’s JB.” With an apologetic look, Jughead dragged his hands through his hair and walked toward the entrance.

 

* * *

 

Jellybean Jones was so much _more_ than Betty had been expecting. She was streetwise yet cultured, both brash and demure, and a host of so many other incongruent traits Betty could hardly keep up. JB was currently enrolled in Tisch’s film department, with an eye toward building a career in documentary filmmaking. If her ability to spin a yarn was any indication, she’d win an Oscar before she turned 30. JB also looked exactly like her brother and shared his same wicked sense of humor.

“—and then he got on the school bus and walked straight to the back row, with his prepubescent fists clench so tightly I thought he was about to have a stroke,” JB mimicked her brother’s body language, much to Jughead’s obvious chagrin. “And, he said, ‘you even breathe in my sister’s direction and I’m going to hit you so hard you’ll need glasses’.”

Betty grabbed JB’s forearm and turned to Jughead. “What happened, Jug? Did you hit him?”

Jughead rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and finished the rest of his beer before answering. “Of course I hit him, Betts, I’m a man of my word.”

Betty turned to JB, enraptured by the tale. “What happened next?”

“The guy hit him back so hard that Jug blacked out.” JB pressed her hand over her heart and batted her eyelashes at her brother. “My hero.”

Jughead groaned and slid down in his chair with a pout. “Why did I invite you over, again?”

JB snorted a laugh and lifted her own beer bottle to toast him. “So I could embarrass you in front of your girlfriend, of course.”

Betty and Jughead froze, neither sure of what to say. They certainly hadn’t discussed what they were to each other, much less how to explain it to others. Nobody except Archie and her friends at work even knew they were a thing.

“Oh.” JB squinted and gestured between the two of them. “Did you think you were being subtle?”

Jughead and Betty exchanged a wary look and then turned back to face JB.

“We…we’re…” Jughead’s voice trailed off with his lack of explanation.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me, brother. You haven’t even had ‘the talk’ yet, have you?” JB threw her head back and sighed dramatically before addressing Betty directly. “You have my sincerest condolences, Betty Cooper.”

“Hey!” Jughead groused, opening up another beer. “You’re pretty condescending for somebody who wore diapers until they were four.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I meant to ignore the silent conversations you two were having with your eyes? The longing looks? The fact that I don’t see many of your belongings in the living room where you supposedly sleep? And, I mean...you’re obviously crazy about her! Who wouldn’t be? She’s adorable.”

Betty erupted into nervous laughter and covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

Jughead, incredulous not two minutes ago at the accusation, managed a smile and a shrug. “The girl makes one documentary short on FBI profilers, and suddenly she’s Holden Ford.”

“Sorry if my superior observational skills bruised your constipated boy feelings.” Looking so much like Jughead, JB unconsciously twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she stared her older brother down.

Jughead fidgeted with the label on the beer bottle and begrudgingly lifted his eyes to meet JB’s. “Apology accepted.”

“You coy bitch.” JB huffed and leaned back into her chair. “I hope you enjoy stubborn streaks in your men, Betty, because this one has more than a 10th floor window.”

“He’s not always so stubborn.” Betty peeked at Jughead through her peripheral vision, and the corner of his mouth lifted in response.

JB‘s head whipped around toward Jughead. “Well, now I know for sure you two are smashing.”

 

* * *

 

Another hour of stories and promises of getting together soon and JB was finally on her way out the door.

She wrapped her arms around Betty, hugging her like an old friend. “I just want you to know that I really respect what you’re doing for your nephew. That kind of surprise had to have turned your whole life upside down.”

“It did.” Betty released JB and glanced at Jughead, who was loading the dirty dishes into the washer. “Though not all surprises are bad.”

JB followed her gaze. “Look, Jug may not be much of a sharer, but it’s obvious how much he likes you. I know he’s kind of a disaster when it comes to interpersonal skills, but he seems more settled now than he used to be. Happier.”

“I wish I knew him before.”

“No, you really don’t,” JB said, laughing.

“Stop your gossiping, you hens!” Jughead balled up a dish towel and threw it at JB, who caught it mid-air and passed it to Betty. “Isn’t there a beautiful plastic bag blowing down the street you need to take a video of?”

“Nice to meet you, Betty,” JB said, then flipped Jughead off with both hands and walked out the door. “Later, asshole.”

Betty shut the door behind her and stood in front of it, watching Jughead finish cleaning up. This was the first opportunity they’d had to be alone since their argument, and anxiety welled in her gut at the thought of them speaking. She clung to her magical thinking, believing that if she just remained in this one spot then nothing had to change, and time could be frozen in amber.

Jughead shut the dishwasher door and looked up at her with curiosity. “Why are you all the way over there?”

“I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to keep her breathing steady so he wouldn’t notice her hands shaking. “I think I just need to stand here a while.”

He made his way over to the front door and leaned against it. “I’ll keep you company.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Jughead reached for her hand, touching the top of it lightly. “I’m sorry I upset you before. And probably also tonight with JB. I’m not very good at any of this.”

Betty let him pull her into his arms and pressed her face into his neck. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He whispered into her ear and held onto her tighter. “You keep saying you are, but something is wrong. I know you.”

He did know her, and that was why she had to tell him the truth.

She lifted her head, took a deep breath, and tried not to let herself cry. If she was going to do this, and it was obvious now that she had to, it could be the end of everything.

“I have a mental disorder, though nobody is sure exactly what it is. A few doctors have said I have Cyclothymia, but others tell me it’s acute anxiety. Whatever it is, I have these short periods where I feel nervous or wired, and just extremely overwhelmed. It comes and goes, and I was okay for a really long time...but I don’t think I am anymore.”

Jughead’s expression was stricken but not surprised. He palmed the side of her face and swallowed roughly. “What can I do to help?”

Betty closed her eyes and shook her head. “This is always how it starts...a guy says he wants to help and then slowly distances himself from me.”

“That’s not me.” He exhaled harshly through his nose, and his jaw tensed as he tried to find the right words. “I live here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re my—“

“—boss. I’m your boss, Jughead. At least, that’s what you told your friend, Sabrina, that I was.” Tears filled Betty's eyes despite her desire to remain calm. “Somebody like Sabrina, beautiful and uncomplicated, that’s who you should be with.”

Jughead barked out a laugh and twisted his fingers in his hair. “Uncomplicated? Betty, she’s blackmailing me. I didn’t want to tell you about my defense today because she threatened to lie and accuse me of plagiarizing documents if I didn’t pull my application for a teaching position she wanted at the university. And I told her that you were just my boss, because if she knew how I really felt about you—“

Betty’s pulse was thumping loudly in her ear, and she grabbed the front of Jughead’s shirt to steady herself. “How do you feel about me, Jug?”

He held her head in both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “JB was right, as usual. I’m crazy about you, Betty. What did you think?”

She blinked away the tears and smiled at him. “I’m crazy about you, too, Jug…and also, probably _clinically_ crazy. It’s a Cooper family trait.”

Jughead rolled his eyes and kissed her. “It’s been a long day, can I please take my girlfriend to bed, now?”

“Yeah.” Betty draped her arms around his neck and kissed him again. “She’d really like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that wasn’t too painful! 
> 
> There might be a few more bumps in the road but there will also be lots of comedy, smut and romance, with a dash of Varchie and Choni. I like to keep a balance :)
> 
> I was really really apprehensive about posting this chapter bc of the angst and Betty’s mental health issues, so if you feel like giving feedback, please let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a fit of insomnia, I wrote the next chapter in one sitting last night. No smut this time, but emotion-porn in abundance—and it runs longer than usual, like the last chapter. 
> 
> It’s also light on the angst (you’ve suffered enough), so I think/hope you’re going to like how this chapter turned out. Lemme know!
> 
> Thanks to ArsenicPanda for putting me knee deep Oxford commas and keeping me away from run-on sentences. You <3

* * *

 

 

J.J started half-day preschool on a Thursday, giving Jughead a short reprieve from childcare. The three extra hours were a welcome respite, time he used to write, think up ways to sidestep Sabrina’s threat, and to have lazy morning sex with Betty whenever her schedule permitted. He was mostly thankful he’d been given the time to hold Betty’s hand in the waiting room of her psychiatrist‘s office while she underwent outpatient observation.

Just as Betty had predicted, her hypomanic phase only lasted a few days from the time she’d disclosed to him what was going on. During the thick of it, he would spend hours curled around her, tangled in the sheets, or next to her on the couch, distracting her with a Raymond Chandler movie marathon. Betty was too proud to let anyone help her in the past, but things had changed between them. He gaze now lingered on him longer than it used to and the warmth from her hugs seeped deeper into the marrow of his bones.

Something had shifted in the fabric of their relationship and it frightened him as much as it thrilled him. He’d known high ‘highs’ in the past, and the low ‘lows’ that inevitably followed. His childhood was littered with the aftermath of both. Jughead couldn’t blame Betty for her illness, anymore than he could blame his father for his, but that didn’t make the rollercoaster any easier to endure.

Logically, he knew this was different from before. He wasn’t a child anymore or dependent on a person who would never rise to the occasion. Betty had been honest with him, sought professional help when she needed it, but that didn’t mean she would never let him down, or that he wouldn’t fail her in some way either. Could he really invest himself in somebody knowing the relationship had the potential to be another personal disappointment for both of them?

It was much too late to make that choice, that was obvious. He’d already thrown his lot in with hers, all while deep down suspecting it couldn’t be long until he fucked everything up in an unusually spectacular way.

The Sabrina situation wasn’t going away anytime soon, and Jughead still hadn’t worked up the nerve to explain to Betty how all of this came about. During the brief time Sabrina and he were dating, she had access to his computer and thus his dissertation. When he showed up for his practice defense with his advisor, Jughead discovered Sabrina had lifted whole sections from it and was threatening to claim the work as her own. With both of them having similar pages, it would be difficult to prove who had written them first. The worst part about it was that even if he were cleared of the charges the stench of scandal would likely follow him his entire academic career.

Jughead wanted to be honest with Betty but wasn’t sure if she was emotionally stable enough yet to handle any more bad news.

Betty and Jughead were sitting in the parent waiting area of J.J.’s drop-in art class. His preschool was off for the Jewish New Year, and Betty suggested they keep him busy painting pottery rather than letting him stew in the house all day.

Archie was seated next to J.J., egging the boy on to add extra eyes and body parts to the family portrait he’d drawn on his plate. “Auntie Betty would look awesome with a tail, J.J.” He looked over his shoulder with a mischievous grin then pointed to a figure on J.J’s plaster canvas. “And, you should totally give Juggie a third leg.”

The other mothers and nannies around them were charmed, as always, though several of them made no secret of staring at Betty, some with suspicion and others with outright derision.

“Why are these women try to kill me with their eyes? Do they all have a crush on you or something?” Betty narrowed her gaze at one woman who was scowling openly at her.

“Of course not.” Jughead toured the room at a glance, noticing the admiring stares on the faces of some of the women, and grimaced. “Well, okay, maybe some of them do?”

“I wonder what level of dirty looks they’d give me if they knew where your mouth was last night?”

“Betty Cooper, you dirty minx.”

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do they know that you’re not available?”

Jughead always mocked the kind of couples who got off on each other’s jealousy, but now that he was experiencing it first-hand...well, he had to admit he didn’t hate it. “Oh, they know I’m not available, which is probably why they’re all looking at you like they’re composing your obituary in their heads.”

Betty shifted her body to face him. “What…”

A large woman, wearing blue velour track pants, approached Betty, speaking to her in a lilting islands accent. “I haven’t seen you around here before. A pretty thing like you, I’d notice.”

On paper, that would’ve been a compliment, but the delivery made it sound more like a threat.

Betty appeared a little perplexed by the edge in the other woman’s voice. “I’m normally working at this time...or sleeping if I have a later shift.”

The nanny looked her over from head to toe and grunted. “J.J. has your eyes, so I’m guessing you must be his mother? You would never know it for the number of times I’ve seen you with him. Good thing your ex-husband takes his parenting responsibilities more seriously.”

“Oh, I’m not actually J.J.’s mother—I mean, _technically_ I’m not J.J.’s mother,” Betty babbled anxiously, shifting in her chair a bit before clearing her throat. “It’s complicated?”

The woman’s hard expression tempered with the new information, and she reached out and grabbed onto Betty’s hand, a touched expression on her face. “Bless you, for what you’ve done for those darling boys. You have given them the gift of life and that can never be repaid.” She squeezed Betty’s hand one last time, then turned and walked away.

“Did I just hallucinate that conversation? You saw her too, right?” Betty looked to Jughead for clarification. A moment after the woman reached the area where the rest of the nannies were camped out, they huddled for a moment. A chorus of sympathetic noises and murmurs erupted from the group, before they all turned and aimed matching smiles at Betty. “Did they just accept me into their coven?”

Jughead rubbed a hand over his face. “I believe they think you’re my surrogate.”

“Your surrogate _what_?” Betty’s nose wrinkled in an adorable way, forcing Jughead to fight the temptation to lean over and kiss it.

He angled his chin toward Archie and J.J. and waited for Betty to work it out.

She startled with the revelation. “Oh my God! Do they think you’re married to Archie?”

“I’m fairly certain...yes.”

Betty’s mouth fell open in shock, before peals of hysterical laughter tumbled from her lips. She wiped tears from her eyes with the backs of her hands as she gasped for air.

“You’re making a scene, baby.” Jughead shifted nervously in his chair as he eyed the other nannies warily. “They’re staring at us.”

“You didn’t even correct them, did you? You let them think Archie was your man.”

“What’s so funny? Are you jealous?” He challenged.

“Of _Archie_?” Betty began laughing again, and Jughead quickly cupped a hand over her mouth.

“You’re ruining my street cred here,” he hissed under his breath.

She signaled to him that she’d stop laughing, though her shoulders still silently shook. Archie was passing out baby wipes to the other nannies so they could clean their charges’ hands. Each one of them thanked him by name.

“How often does he come to these things with you guys?” Betty asked, starting to giggle again. “Oh my God, I can’t wait to tell Veronica, she’s going to die.”

“You might want to hold off on that until this weekend.” Jughead aimed a thumbs up at J.J., who held up his plate for Betty and him to see. “He claims he’s going to ask her to marry him.”

“ _What_?” Betty grabbed onto his knee. “He’s known her for seven minutes.”

“Apparently those seven minutes were heaven.” He brushed his shoulder against hers to snap her out of her shock. “Look, I don’t know, he says he’s in love. It’s crazy, right? How can you be in love with somebody after only a few months? Just don’t tell her anything about it or he’ll murder me.”

“Oh. Of course I won’t.” Betty’s grip on his knee relaxed, and as she placed her hand back into her lap, the air temperature shifted down a few degrees in a blink.

Jughead lifted an eyebrow at her. “You okay?”

She nodded and started to gather her belongings. “I just—I should go. I’ve got such a long night ahead of me with the hurricane coming.”

She started to leave, but he grabbed her hand. “Let me walk you out at least?”

Betty nodded and headed toward the door, stopping to kiss both Archie and J.J. before exiting the store.

 

* * *

 

 

Jughead knew he’d said or done something wrong in the last few minutes, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Was she mad he allowed the nannies and moms to think he was married to Archie?

Betty walked quickly onto the sidewalk, a few paces in front of him, and he reached for her shoulder. “What did I do wrong?”

She slowed to a stop, but didn’t turn around. “Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

A hollow feeling ate away at his stomach. “Why does it feel like I have?”

Betty turned slowly on her heel and lifted a hand to his face, so soft and warm his skin melted against it. She brushed her thumb along his hairline in a gesture so reminiscent of his mother he was surprised it gave him comfort. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you did something wrong. It’s—it has to do with me not you.”

Jughead took a step closer and pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling the scent of lavender in her hair. “Are you feeling anxious again?”

“No.” She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it and shook her head.

“Tell me.”

She took a deep breath and clutched his arm for fortitude. “You said it was crazy that Archie could be in love with Veronica after only a few months.”

“And?”

Betty bit her lip apprehensively and pulled her hobo bag closer to her chest, putting distance between them. “I guess I’m crazy, too, then.”

She stared up at him expectantly, but his voice froze and body stiffened as he struggled to unpack the implication of her words.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.” Betty smiled tightly and pressed a dry kiss to his cheek. “Just please make sure you and J.J. are inside by 4 pm when the heavier rain is meant to start...and oh! Cheryl might come up to stay with us if it looks like downtown is going to flood. If the emergency housing at your sister’s school doesn’t pan out, tell her she should come up, too. Morningside Heights probably won’t flood too badly.”  She kissed his cheek one last time and quickly shuffled off.

“Betty!” Jughead shouted, finally getting his mouth to work.

She looked over her shoulder, eyes sparkling with hope and affection for him, and he couldn’t help but admire how delicate and ethereal her beauty was in contrast with the darkening sky. “Yes, Jug?”

He raised a hand in goodbye. “Stay dry.”

Betty’s forehead creased, she nodded her response, and she walked away. Part of him worried it might one day soon be for good.

Fuck.

“Betty leave?” Archie walked up behind him, J.J. clutched in one hand and the decorated plate in the other. “What happened? Why do you look weird?”

“I always look weird. I’m weird.”

“Whatever, dude. J.J. and I want ice cream, and then we want to go to the diamond district to pick up Ronnie’s ring.”

Jughead raised his eyebrows. “J.J. wants to go to the diamond district?”

Archie tapped J.J. on the arm, and the boy spoke up. “I like look at shiny and glitter.”

“Good job, little man,” Archie whispered and smiled triumphantly at Jughead. “See? He’s interested.”

Jughead sighed and gestured in the direction of the subway, indicating that Archie had gotten his way. “I still can’t believe you’re proposing to a girl you’ve only known a few months. How do you even know you’re in love with her and that it’s not just an intense carnal attraction to a beautiful woman?”

Archie appeared truly baffled by the question. “Of course she’s beautiful, but there are a lot of beautiful women in New York and I don’t want to marry all of them. Just her.”

“Okay, let's go on the assumption that you love her, why are you in such a rush to get married?”

“I didn’t know that I wanted any of this, but then I met her and she already feels like family. I guess I just wanted to make that real.” Archie hadn’t looked this serious about anything in his life.

Jughead’s eyes dropped to the picture on the painted plate in Archie’s hand. A figure with blonde hair, a tail, and a dress held hands with a small boy who had six eyes, and holding his other hand was a three-legged man. It was a creative, if terrible, rendering of them, but something about the image made Jughead’s stomach flutter. “Okay, Arch. Let’s get you that ring.”

As Archie and J.J. whooped loudly and started for the subway entrance, Jughead took a moment to pull his phone out and send a text to Betty. He felt increasingly ill at the way they’d left things, and both confusion and guilt licked at him in turn. He wasn’t sure he could put a name to what he felt for Betty, but he knew whatever it was equally matched her feelings for him. Still, this wasn’t the kind of conversation one had over text. The blank screen was practically judging him for his inaction as his finger hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to type. Eventually, he wrote the only thing he thought was neutral enough not to upset her.

_We need to talk._

 

* * *

 

After fetching the ring for Archie, J.J. and Jughead accompanied him to meet up with Veronica for lunch at Salumeria Rosi, a postage stamp-sized Italian tapas place near Lincoln Center.

“Well if it isn’t Ginger and the professor,” Veronica drawled, holding her arms up and making grabby hands. “Bring that delicious boy to me, immediately.” Archie pulled J.J. from his shoulders and placed him on his feet. Shoes barely touching the ground, the little one immediately took off running toward Veronica. “Hello, gorgeous,” she cooed at him while running her fingers through his coppery hair.

“Hello!” Archie called out with fake indignance. “I thought _I_ was gorgeous.”

“I’m sorry, I only have time for one gorgeous man at a time, Archiekins.” She peppered J.J.’s head with kisses and handed him a breadstick to eat. “Now, it’s your turn.”

Archie’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. He leaned down to kiss her, and she grabbed for his hair, tugging him down into the seat next to her without breaking contact.

Finally coming up for a breath, Veronica blew Jughead a kiss and motioned for him to take a seat. “I’ve already ordered for us and J.J. I’m friends with the chef and he’s agreed to make a little something kid-friendly for him.”

“Can he make something kid-friendly for me?” Jughead glanced at the menu and frowned. “Why does it say ‘small plates’?”

Veronica laughed musically and yanked the menu from his hands. “I knew you were going to complain about that. I told them to just keep bringing food until you tap out. Has it started raining yet?” She looked toward the windows.

“No, but it’s starting to look like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse might ride in before dinner to bring about the end of days.” Jughead pulled a packet of crayons and a coloring book from J.J.’s backpack and slid them across the table to the boy. “Betty, of course, already stocked the apartment with canned food and gallons of water, and filled the bathtub.”

Archie, tearing his eyes away from Veronica for a brief moment, quirked his head to the side. “Wouldn’t water be the last thing you’d need to stock during a storm?”

Veronica placed a hand on Archie’s chest. “Oh, sweetie, you can’t drink that water, it could be contaminated with lethal bacteria.”

Archie pursed his lips in thought. “Huh. That actually makes a lot of sense. Jug once dared me to drink from a puddle when we were kids and I was sick for, like, two days straight.”

“Why on earth would you take that dare, Archiekins?” Veronica asked, looking truly disturbed by the prospect, then pressed her finger to his lips before he could answer. “You know what? Nothing you say is going to make me understand, so let’s just celebrate that you now have me in your life to protect you from things like standing water and your idiot best friend.”

“Hey,” Jughead protested weakly, not so sure he really had the right to advocate for himself after this morning.

“Listen, don’t knock my help, Jughead, because you’re in luck, today. I’m feeling magnanimous...even though I really shouldn’t be and you _know_ why.” She leveled him with a chastising frown, and Jughead wondered if Betty had already spoken to Veronica about his stupidity. “Betty told me of your Sabrina Spellman problem, and you’ll be happy to know that Veronica Lodge is on the case and going to take care of that little bit of nastiness for you.”

Jughead squinted at her, trying to figure out her angle—in his experience, nobody helped a person without expecting something in return—and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”

Veronica took a long sip of Chianti and hugged the glass to her chest. “I happen to know Sabrina Spellman. I went to Spence with that b—witch.” She glanced at J.J., who was still engrossed in his artwork. “That girl has always been a sneak, and trust me when I tell you, the biggest witches usually have the most skeletons in their broom closets.”

“And you know how to find said skeletons?” Jughead was unused to experiencing optimism, but he felt the telltale signs of it beginning to stir.

“Not yet, but I will,” she said, resolutely, in a honeyed voice.

It was a nice offer, but Jughead knew never to take an easy promise seriously. “Cool. Let me know when that happens.”

“I can see that you're skeptical.” Veronica raised an eyebrow. “But you don’t know my family, Jug. A Lodge always vanquishes their enemies. You can take that to the bank.”

“And Sabrina Spellman is your enemy?” Jughead asked, raising his own wine glass to his lips.

Veronica brushed her hand through the air with a flourish. “She is now.”

Jughead looked to Archie for a comment, but the man was too enraptured by Veronica’s presence to notice him. “Not that I’m not grateful for your interest and support, Veronica, but why would you take up my cause? You hardly know me.”

“I love Betty, and Betty loves you, so by the law of transitive property, I now love _you_. And I always take care of the people I love. Deal with it.” She clinked her glass against Jughead’s and downed the rest of her wine.

Veronica knew that Betty loved him? Did everybody know? Was he truly this inept at relationships?

Of course he was.

It was odd being the subject of a person’s concern, especially a person who wasn’t Archie or JB. Jughead decided he liked Veronica. She was certainly a lot to take, but he could see why both Betty and Archie adored her. He gave her a lopsided smile and raised his glass. “You are a force.”

“Yeah, she is.” Archie lifted Veronica’s hand to his mouth and kissed the tops of her fingers.

Veronica kissed his cheek and slapped her hands on her lap. “Now, who sitting at this table wants to hear about the segment I filmed this morning on the latest fashion trends in rain boots?”

 

* * *

 

Jughead unlocked the front door with one hand while balancing a sleeping J.J. against his shoulder. The sky opened up midway through lunch, but with the help of an uber, they managed to reach the lobby of the building before they got too soaked and the winds grew too strong to drive in.

All Jughead wanted was a bath and a good nap, perhaps a moment of solace to contemplate all the poor choices that put his life in such disarray. He still hadn’t received a text back from Betty, which really shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

In the low light of the apartment, he found Cheryl curled up on the couch, drinking straight from a bottle of champagne and watching the television on mute.

“Hello, Gary Poppins.”

“Betty said you might be here...she didn’t mention anything about you being drunk, though.”

“You’re quick.” Cheryl pulled a long draw off the bottle and swallowed it hard enough to force a hiccup. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Apologies, storms have always been rather disquieting for me.”

Jughead closed the door behind him with his foot, tossed his keys on the foyer table, and carried J.J. past Cheryl into his room, depositing him in his bed. Betty wouldn’t be thrilled Jughead put him to sleep without a bath and tooth brushing, but his day was long enough without risking incurring the wrath of a sleepy toddler. He quietly shut J.J.’s door and slumped next to Cheryl on the couch.

She angled the champagne bottle toward him in offering.

Jughead hadn’t noticed any champagne in their refrigerator before, so this had to have been Cheryl’s. “Do you, just...travel with champagne, or—”

“If I’m meant to while away precious hours of my time on a sofa in the middle of _Harlem_ , the universe cannot expect me to do it sober.” She thrust the bottle toward him again, knocking it into his kneecap. “Do you want some or not, vagrant?”

Jughead grabbed the bottle from her, which was cold to the touch. “How is this chilled?”

“Cheryl Blossom doesn’t drink room temperature Dom Perignon. Do I look Belgian to you?”

“No?” Jughead wasn’t sure if that was the answer she was looking for, but it seemed to satisfy her for the moment. He didn’t have a lot of experience with champagne, but even he could tell from the first sip that this bottle wasn’t cheap. Resting the bottle on the couch between them, he gestured to the television screen. “What are we watching?”

Cheryl possessively snatched her bottle back and waggled her eyebrows. “Your lovah is getting herself wet without you.”

On the television, Betty was reporting from the back of a flatbed truck in Battery Park, clinging to her microphone as she struggled to stand. Jughead leaned forward and put his hand to the glass screen.

“I hope they’ve tied weights to her legs like a Macy’s parade balloon, because the wind is just…” Cheryl trembled as a loud howling wind rattled the windows. “They say this one might be worse than Hurricane Sandy. Poor Cousin Betty doesn’t look too safe out there, does she?”

“No, she really doesn’t.” Jughead’s hand was apparently soldered to the screen, because he absolutely couldn’t remove it. He’d never thought about the safety of reporters during catastrophic weather events before, but now that Betty was involved, he could feel the anger and fear welling within him. “Battery Park is barely elevated above sea level, and it’s already a swimming pool down there.”

Cheryl made a concerned face and handed the bottle back to Jughead. “She’s probably the only one in my whole family who doesn’t loathe me.”

“At the risk of asking something obvious, why does everybody hate you?”

“My parents are straight up evil, and not in the Hot Topic, #emokyloren, whiny bullshit kind of way. Mommy put me in a gay conversion camp when I was a teen. Daddy is a stealth drug dealer who thinks I’m too unstable to run his failing business—he should be so lucky.” Cheryl paused to take another sip of champagne. “Oh, and my dear twin brother? Not so happy I took Cousin Polly’s side when he pulled his deadbeat dad routine on J.J. Betty is the only one I speak to, really.”

Jughead’s head hurt from listening to this avalanche of familial horrors. He grabbed the bottle of champagne from Cheryl again, hoping to wash out the memory of the last three minutes of his life. “Jesus Christ, Cheryl, the Joneses look like the goddamn Bradys next to the Blossoms.”

“Right? And everybody wonders why I’m so fucked up.” She leaned into a Louis Vuitton overnight bag and magically produced another bottle of champagne. “You can keep that one for yourself, Jones.”

He had to admit, hanging out with somebody whose family was as fucked up as Cheryl’s made him appreciate his own life more. JB never knocked up a cousin and then skipped town to become a hang gliding instructor in Patagonia. His mother never cared about him or his romantic choices enough to persecute him for them, and his dad...well, okay, his dad was also a drug dealer, so he had Cheryl tied on that front.

Jughead lifted his bottle and knocked it gently against hers. “To shitty families.”

“Here! Here!” She was so tipsy she almost missed the connection. “You know, you might be the only boy Cousin Betty has liked who hasn’t been scared off by her tragic backstory.”

“Do you mean the mental illness or the cult member sister?”

“I mean the killer dad, of course.”

Jughead gripped the neck of the champagne bottle hard. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Hal Cooper? Total serial killer.” Cheryl rolled her eyes, like she couldn’t believe this information slipped his mind. “My father’s a scoundrel, but at least he hasn’t murdered three people in cold blood or attempted filicide...yet.”

Betty’s father was a murderer?

_Betty’s father tried to kill her?_

Jughead set his champagne bottle on the edge of the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. Betty hadn’t told him any of this, of course, and he couldn’t help but blame himself for not making her feel comfortable enough to. He also felt terribly guilty for knowing all of this without her having disclosed it personally to him. There had to have been a reason she’d kept it a secret. Did she think it would be too much for him to handle?

“Ohh, you didn’t know.” Cheryl winced, leaned over, and grabbed his champagne, passing it back to him again. “You should drink until you forget. That’s what I do.”

Jughead looked at the bottle in his hand and placed it back on the table. No amount of alcohol could calm the maelstrom of thoughts running through his head. This was going to be a long night, and he’d have to distract himself in some way. “You ever play poker, Blossom, or is that too lowbrow for you?”

“Excuse you, but it’s only lowbrow when people like you play it.” She grinned and produced a pack of cards from her bag. “When I do it, it’s classy.”

 

* * *

 

One frozen lasagna and five hours later, Jughead and Cheryl were still glued to their same spots on the couch. Time seemed to be moving at a slower speed, like swimming through molasses. They’d played cards until they could barely hold them any longer, but according to the clock, it was just 9 pm.

Jughead pressed his face into one of the cushions, noticed a faint trace of Betty’s perfume lingering there, and was struck with an overwhelming longing. He needed to see her, wanted to explain himself. He’d been so caught off guard by Betty’s earlier declaration, he hadn’t had time to figure out what it meant for them.

He was sitting where they spent most evenings together, surrounded by her scent, watching her silently on the television, and it was almost like she was with him. Almost. But, she wasn’t, and the lack of her was unsettling and wrong.

“Oh, shit!” Cheryl cried out, leaning forward in her seat. “Jones, look!”

Onscreen, Betty struggled to stay upright against the gale force winds. She was not quite standing, clinging to the side railing of the truck, shaking her head and shouting something he couldn’t hear.

Something wasn’t right.

Jughead glanced at Cheryl and turned the volume up on the television.

“...ttery Tunnel is completely flooded, with no cars being allowed to pass through. WPIX weather reporter Betty Cooper is live on the scene, right in the eye of the storm.” Reggie Mantle paused, waiting for a response.

“Not quite the eye, Reggie,” Betty yelled over the whistling storm in the background, “The eye is actually the calmest part.”

“I stand corrected.” Reggie let out a fake-sounding chuckle.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind knocked Betty over, nearly blowing her off the side of the truck, but she managed to claw her way back in.

Jughead’s heart had stopped beating until she made it back into the truck.

“Betty? Are you still with us?” Reggie’s face reappeared in the corner of the screen, looking genuinely worried.

She gave him a thumbs up and took a moment to catch her breath.

“I've just been told by the producers that the engine of the studio truck is flooded now and won’t start?” Reggie asked.

“That’s right, Reggie,” Betty spoke into her mic, wiping the water from her face so she could see. “Toni and I are stuck with about four other commuter cars out here...six people in total. Emergency services have been notified, but the water is rising fast.”

The camera panned to the tunnel’s on-ramp, where the water level had already climbed past the wheels.

“The winds are too strong to send a helicopter right now, so we’re just going to have to sit tight and wait for the coast guard to help.” Beneath the sleeve of Betty’s raincoat, a pool of blood began to bloom.

“Have you been injured, Betty?” Reggie gestured to his own arm for the viewer’s reference.

Betty looked down at her arm, noticing the blood for the first time, and shrugged. “Maybe a piece of metal nicked me when I went over the side?”

A voice off-camera, which Jughead assumed to be Toni’s, shouted something unintelligible before a wet rag flew into the shot. Betty gathered it up and wrapped her arm to the best of her ability.

Reggie’s expression was grave as Betty’s picture feed was minimized to the corner of the screen. “We’re live with WPIX weather reporter Betty Cooper, who is currently injured and stranded at the mouth of the flooded Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel and awaiting rescue from the Coast Guard, along with six other people and her camerawoman, Toni Topaz.”

“So, they’re just going to leave her there?” Jughead’s heart was now thundering in his chest. A spike of adrenaline forced him to his feet, and he started anxiously pacing the room. “She could be—they can’t just leave Betty out there!”

Cheryl rose from the couch on unsteady feet, still clutching her bottle. “Shit.”

Reggie’s face startled, and his picture was minimized within the screen as Betty’s widened. “Apparently, one of the nearby cars that's taking on water has an infant in it, and Betty Cooper is trying to fashion a…” he looked to somebody off camera for a moment, “A life preserver of some kind, by tying electrical wire around one of the truck's spare tires.”

Betty tied the makeshift rope through one of the open windows and tugged on it to check its security. She tossed the tire into the water and then jumped in after it.

Reggie rose halfway from his chair. “Oh my god! She’s in the water. She’s in the water! WPIX reporter Betty Cooper is swimming across the entrance of the flooded Brooklyn-Battery tunnel to retrieve a baby from the next car over.”

“I can’t look!” Cheryl, now in tears, turned her back to the television.

Jughead couldn’t turn away.

Betty reached the car, her injured arm clinging to the tire as she reached up and collected the small baby from the hysterical mother passing her child down. Betty placed the baby in the center of the tire and pulled on the rope to move them back to the truck. The camera was placed on its side as Toni rushed over to pull the baby to safety, bundling it into the dry cab of the truck.

“This is incredible! WPIX reporter Betty Cooper and her camerawoman, Toni Topaz, have just saved the life of a child in a nearby car. Their bravery is truly astounding.” Reggie pressed his earpiece and nodded at whatever news he’d received. “I’m being told Betty is going back for the mother, now.”

Jughead’s stomach tightened as he watched his girlfriend risk her life a second time. He could vaguely hear his phone ringing in the background and Cheryl moving to answer it for him.

“Yes it is,” Cheryl’s voice paused as the person on the other end of the call spoke. “Yes he is…Betty’s cousin, Cheryl.” She held the phone to her chest and looked at Jughead. “It’s Veronica...do you want—”

Jughead didn’t respond, though he could hear Cheryl ending the call with a promise of touching base later.

The onscreen camera was lifted again, and Betty could be seen swimming back to the car, where the mother leapt from the driver’s side window and grabbed Betty’s arm, just as the current nearly took her. The women swam back, huddled together, but Jughead could tell that Betty’s injured arm was causing her trouble.

“Betty’s looking a bit tired now, which is to be expected, but I’ve just been told the coast guard is on its way and should hopefully be there in the next 20 minutes.”

“Thank fucking God.” Cheryl collapsed back onto the couch and heaved a breath.

The news was welcome, but Jughead couldn’t relax just yet, not when it looked as though Betty had stopped paddling.

Reggie’s face fell at whatever news came through on his earpiece. “Something's not right. Betty Cooper appears to be unconscious now. We’re not sure what the extent of her injuries are yet, or if she’s even breathing…”

“No!” Cheryl jumped up again, this time dropping the bottle to the floor with a crash. “She’s fine. She has to be fine.”

The camera was put down, and Toni entered the frame once again. She braced her legs against the side of the flatbed and lowered another wire to the mother. The woman tied the rope around Betty’s waist and signaled to Toni, who began hauling Betty’s unconscious body up from the water.

Panic clawed at Jughead’s chest, and he grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fought to regain his composure. His fingers turned white as they dug into the plush material, the point of contact grounding him in place.

He distantly felt a hand touch his shoulder. “Jones, are you—”

“Fuck this.” Unable to stand still anymore, Jughead pulled away from Cheryl, snatched his keys off the table, and charged for the front door.

“Where the hell are you going?” Cheryl called after him.

“I don’t know!” Jughead pulled on a trench coat but ignored the umbrella by the door. It was useless anyway in this wind. “I can't just stay here and wait. I have to do...something. I’m heading downtown. Text me when you have any news.”

Cheryl looked stricken, but she managed a nod. “She’s going to be fine. She’s _Betty_.”

 

* * *

 

It took Jughead less time than he thought it would to get downtown, due to the dearth of vehicles of the road. The subways were all closed, but the buses were still running, so Jughead hopped onto the first one he could find and rode it as far south as it would go. Battery Park was completely off limits, and the nearest accessible medical facility was Mount Sinai Hospital on 14th street, so he took a gamble and got off there.

The ride down was harrowing for him. Never in his life had he been this scared. JB had been knocked off her bike once when she was ten, and Jughead had carried her the entire two miles to the hospital and held her hand while she endured a dozen stitches.

But this? It was as if he were outside of his own body and watching himself in a production of his life. According to the universal heroic myth (something he explored in depth in his dissertation), this would be the ‘ordeal’ stage of Jughead’s story, where the hero must face his greatest fear.

Losing Betty.

Jughead was crouched in the lobby of the ER, just one in a sea of other heroes suffering their own ‘ordeals,’ and stared at his phone.

No text had come since the last one an hour ago, which simply told him there was no news.

Just when he’d given up hope, a commotion erupted at the unloading area, and Betty was brought in, strapped to a gurney, followed closely by a drenched and frightened woman wrapped in shock blankets who he knew from Betty’s photos was Toni.

Jughead’s legs almost gave out from under him. “Toni! Toni!”

Her head turned at his voice, and she seemed to instantly recognize him, her face flooding with relief. “Jughead?”

He pushed past a throng of people, and she latched onto his arm, dragging him with her. “Is she—”

“She’s alive, but unconscious. They think she may have banged her head on the side of the truck when she was trying to help the woman climb up.”

Jughead heard nothing past the word ‘alive’.

The orderlies stopped them from following, and Jughead finally allowed himself to react to the news. He crumpled halfway over, letting out a sob so hard he could barely catch his breath. When he straightened back up and collected himself, Toni brushed his hair from his face.

She shook her head. “You’re very dedicated. Super dashing. Exactly as advertised. You’d be amazed how rare that is.”

Jughead wiped the tears from his face with his sodden sleeve. “Well, there’s no way you could live up to your hype, Toni.”

Toni laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “You’d be surprised.”

He spontaneously gathered Toni into a hug and held her to his chest. “Thank you. Thank you for saving her. You have no idea…”

She squeezed him back. “Don’t thank me. I love her, too. I did it for me.”

An endless hour passed and the doctor rushed out of the triage room, announcing Betty’s name. “She’s regained consciousness.”

Toni pushed Jughead toward the doctor. “This is her partner.”

Jughead was whisked away before he had a chance to think about what that word meant.

 

* * *

 

Betty was lying on a hospital bed, shivering under a heated blanket, the color drained from her face. Her forearm was wrapped in gauze, and another bandage covered one of her temples.

“Baby…” he whispered, almost afraid to speak, as he walked slowly toward the bed.

Her eyes fluttered open at his voice, and she attempted a smile. “Jug.”

He dropped in the chair next to her bedside and lifted her cold hand to his face, holding it against his cheek to warm it. “Oh God, Betty. You scared me so much.”

Jughead started crying, and Betty wiped away his tears. “Don’t—I’m okay.” He shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak. Her fingers carded through his wet hair. “You came for me.”

His head jerked up. “Of course I came for you!”

Her smile grew, and she whispered, “I knew you’d find me. I knew it.”

At that moment, he realized Betty had more faith in him than he ever did.

Jughead cupped the sides of her face with both hands. “Betty, I’m s-so sorry about this morning. I didn’t know—didn’t realize—”

“Shh,” she covered his hand with hers. “It’s okay, Juggie.”

“No, it’s not. You tried to tell me and I was just…” He shook his head, disgusted with himself. But when he looked into her eyes, he only saw adoration. “And that's what’s so stupid, because...because I love you, Betty Cooper. I love you so much.”

She started to laugh and cry at the same time. “It’s stupid that you love me?”

He kissed her then, gently enough not to hurt her, but hard enough for her to feel that he meant it. “I’m what’s stupid, baby. I’m sorry it took me a minute to catch up.”

“It’s okay.” Betty brushed her fingers over his. “You’re here now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yes, I know Betty rescuing a child on T.V. is a bit cheesy, but you’ve already entered tropeland and she totally would do this in canon, so I stand by it. Hopefully, it wasn’t too cringey?
> 
> As always, thanks to everybody who has continued to stick with this fic. I appreciate all of the kudos and comments you've given me, and feel super lucky you’re still here.
> 
> If you feel like taking the time, I’d love to know what you thought! See you soon xox


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I had grad finals and family in town. I’m still here, I promise.
> 
> Thanks to arsenicpanda for her love of the Oxford comma and punctuation and her patience with my endless typos.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

Light pressure, almost too shallow to register, rolled over the ridges of Betty’s spine, from nape to base, crawling up her bare skin like a spider and circling back down again. It was a strange, irritating feeling, being tickled without intent, and her brain could barely process the origin when a sharp slap against her cheek rose her from her sleep.

“Jug, what?” She lifted her head to scold him and was surprised to find him still asleep beside her.

“I want food,” a small voice called out from the space in between her body and Jughead’s. “Make pancakes.”

Betty tried to sit up and then startled, realizing she was completely nude under her sheet, and clutched the soft cotton to her chest. “Hey pumpkin, maybe you can let Auntie Betty get dressed, and then I promise to make you breakfast.”

J.J. stubbornly collapsed backward on the mattress. “You get dressed now. I’m hungry.”

While it was a shitty way to wake up, the one positive thing about Betty’s current predicament was that J.J. didn’t seem to be confused by Jughead's new sleeping arrangement.

They’d been home from the hospital for three days now, and he hadn’t left her side—hovering over her like a mother hen—which would’ve been annoying if it had been anybody but him. The night she was caught in the storm had been the first time since her father’s attempt on her life that she’d contemplated her own mortality. But unlike that night, she had people to get back to who depended on her.

After a tense morning filled with self-loathing and regrets, Betty had been worried her profession of love might’ve demolished everything she and Jughead were building toward. Without the storm arriving and giving her something else to focus on, her anxiety probably would’ve spiraled and made things worse between them. At the time, she thought it was a blessing.

But, when the water started rising and it looked like things might not go their way, all of Betty’s fears about Jughead’s feelings for her evaporated. She wanted to live, wanted a future, wanted it to be with him, but what was most important at that moment was just to see him one last time before she died.

She was barely awake when he entered her hospital room, but the soft look on his face was like a bright ray of early morning sunshine bursting through a crack in the drapes and rousing her from her sleep. And, then he touched her cheek and told her that he loved her, and everything was right again.

Betty looked down at Jughead, nude and asleep next to her, and wanted to protect him from the awkward situation. “Please, J.J., I need privacy to put clothes on.”

“But, Juggie is here.” One of J.J.’s small legs folded up and then sprang out, kicking Jughead in the ass and waking him from a deep slumber.

“Betty?” Jughead called out in a panic and grappled for her arm. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I am not a baby!” J.J. grumbled, kicking Jughead again.

Jughead’s eyes widened as his thoughts cleared and he gathered the sheet around him, glancing at Betty. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now?’

“That’s not all that’s out of the bag, Jug.” Betty looked down at his cock, which had somehow escaped the confines of the sheet.

He quickly covered himself and forced a casual smile for J.J. “Buddy? Do you know where I hide my Cocoa Puffs?”

J.J. sat up excitedly, looking more alert. “I have Cocoa Puffs?”

“If you give Auntie Betty and me until the microwave clock says six-three-zero without disturbing us, you can have as much of my cereal as you want.”

“Yes!” J.J. tumbled off the bed and took off for the kitchen in one move.

“No coming in before six-three-zero, got it?” Jughead screamed after him.

“Got it!” A small voice replied.

Jughead leapt up and locked the bedroom door behind J.J. before crawling back into bed and wrapping himself around Betty like a comma. “I just bought us an extra hour of silence.”

Betty tucked his arm around her waist. “How are you so calm about this?”

“It was bound to happen eventually.” His breath tickled the back of her neck as he spoke, and she couldn’t help but feel thankful once again that she’d lived through that terrible night to have this again. “I mean, assuming we stayed together.”

She flipped around to face him and pressed her nose against his. “We’re staying together.”

He smiled against her lips. “How can you be so sure about that?”

Her hands cupped the sides of his face. “Because you love me.”

Jughead kissed her so delicately she felt it in her toes. “I do love you.”

Betty’s heart stuttered at his admission. Though he’d said it 20 times to her in the last few days, each new profession of love filled her with so much feeling she thought she might overflow. She dropped her leg over his and pulled him closer. “And I love you too, a worrying amount. However, I’m not sure I love you enough to forgive you for getting J.J. so hopped up on sugar we’ll probably have trouble wrangling him on the train later today.”

“The trip is barely over an hour. We’ll survive.” Jughead pressed his lips against the healing cut on her forehead, trailing kisses to the shell of her ear. “What are we going to do while J.J. is raiding my cereal?”

Betty grinned and flipped him on his back. “Oh, I’m sure we can think of something.”

 

* * *

 

Riverdale may have only been 75 minutes up the Hudson River coastline, but socially it was a world away. Time moved a little slower in this bucolic hamlet, as if on a five second network delay. And, unlike Manhattan, where it took a team of experts to make a single tree thrive, everything here grew wild, verdant, and lush, with no effort at all.

As the train pulled into Riverdale’s station, Betty squeezed Jughead’s hand a little tighter. She knew her mother loved her, but there was an undeniable pressure she felt as Alice’s favorite emotional proxy. A life of seeming perfection had been stolen from her mother as a result of her father’s reign of terror, and those frustrated hopes for the future had been supplanted into Betty. Alice was protective of her dreams—now Betty’s—carefully tending to them like she did her prized rose bushes.

“Are you okay?” Jughead’s forehead was wrinkled with concern. “You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”

Betty rested her head on Jughead’s shoulder and tried to breathe through her anxiety. “Mom can be a bit much, and I haven’t…she doesn’t know—“

“—about us.” Jughead’s thumb, which had been stroking the back of her hand, paused for a brief moment over her knuckles. “It’s okay. You’ll tell her when you want to.”

Overwhelmed with affection for Jughead, Betty lifted her head and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you. She has a tendency to make everything about her, and I just—I don’t want her to have access to this. Not yet.”

Jughead shuffled a sleeping J.J. closer to his side and gave her a sidelong glance. “As long as you realize that while we’re in stealth mode, you’re not going to have free access to all of this.” His eyes dropped to his lap and Betty playfully shoulder checked him.

“We’ve been in stealth mode for months and I’ve had no problem accessing it so far.” She looked pointedly at his crotch, then back up to his eyes. “Though, admittedly, my mom is a lot more on the ball when it comes to these things than J.J.”

Jughead’s hand slipped into her hair. “Then, I should probably do this before we can’t.” He pressed their lips together, a fleeting kiss, and Betty mourned the loss of it the moment he pulled back.

The train rolled to a stop, and they collected their luggage. Betty was holding J.J. against her chest as Jughead carried their bags.

“I love you,” she whispered to him as her mother came into view on the platform. “Try to remember that.”

“I love you, too.” His smile quickly dropped as they drew closer to Alice, who was staring at Betty with a dawning horror.

“Oh, baby, your face!” Alice cried, in lieu of a greeting. “Will there be a scar?”

Betty rolled her eyes and immediately second-guessed her decision to visit. “Hi mom, nice to see you, too.”

Alice’s fingers hovered over the bruise on Betty’s forehead. “This isn’t where you had stitches, was it?”

“That was my arm—and before you even ask, they had a constant antibiotic drip in my IV, so I am not at a high risk for MRSA.”

The corners of Alice’s mouth turned down as she cupped Betty’s cheek. “When I saw you on T.V. and it looked like you might—oh honey, I’ve never been so frightened. I thought I was going to lose you. You’re the only one I have left, and I just...” Alice wiped a stray tear from her face and regained her composure. “Are you in any pain?”

Betty softened under the weight of her mothers concern. “I’m okay mom, really. I promise.”

With a heavy exhale, Alice plastered on a practiced smile and brushed J.J.’s hair from his eyes. “How is my baby doing? You know, Elizabeth, you really shouldn’t let him nap this late or he’ll never get into a good sleep rhythm…”

“Mom, this is Jughead,” Betty said—in an effort to cut off one of her mother's lectures on child rearing—angling her head toward him.

Alice’s assessing gaze traveled the length of Jughead’s form, before turning her attention back to Betty. “Not what I expected, but he seems...handy.” With that, she turned and swanned toward the car, her healing hip barely slowing her down.

“I’m so sorry,” Betty whispered under her breath, but Jughead simply chuckled.

“Betts, have you ever tried to wrestle a pair of shoes off a 170-pound drunk man, before? This is a cakewalk.” He lifted the bags and followed her mother to the car.

Betty hoped that Jughead would still feel the same way after this week was over.

 

* * *

 

 

“Blueberry or peach?” Alice stood in the middle of the dining room, wearing an impeccably clean apron, and gestured to a pair of pies cooling on a baking rack. “Blueberries aren’t really in season anymore, but they’re Elizabeth’s favorite, and so we do what we can to please our children, don’t we Jug-head?”

Jughead’s eyes darted nervously to Betty, no doubt looking to her for the correct answer to the test.

“Peach is my favorite, actually,” he eventually said, earning an approving nod from Alice. “Though, they both look delicious and I wouldn’t say no to either.”

Her mother meticulously sliced a large piece of the peach pie, with the concentration of a surgeon, and gently placed it in the center of an etched crystal plate before depositing it in front of him. “Peach is my favorite, too.”

“Thank you. It smells amazing.” Jughead waited for Alice to section a small piece for herself and then lifted his fork to taste it. “It tastes as good as it smells, too.”

“Thank you, dear.” Alice gifted him a cursory smile. “So, Elizabeth tells me you’re a student?” Though her smile didn’t falter, the rest of her expression made it clear that she was not impressed.

“He’s a doctoral candidate,” Betty interjected, feeling defensive on her boyfriend’s behalf. “Creative writing, though he T.A.’d a comparative literature class last term.”

Alice finished a bite of pie and rested her fork on the plate. “And what does one do with such a degree?”

“I’m a novelist, though I’ll probably try to support my writing habit with a professorship, if I can secure one.” A flash of concern crossed Jughead’s face, then he busied himself with loading another bite of pie onto his fork.

“Hmm.” Alice pushed her plate to the side, steepled her hands under her chin, and arched one perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “Whatever will my daughter do for help when you find this elusive ‘professorship’,” her fingers crooked in the air, “and leave her?”

Betty’s stomach tightened at the mention of Jughead leaving, but she attempted to remain unfazed. “Professorship doesn’t require ‘air quotes’, mom, it’s a real job.”

“You’re very right, Elizabeth, but I’d still like to know.” Alice’s eyes slid toward Betty. “Your cousin Cheryl mentioned how attached our J.J. had become to Jug-head since his arrival.” Betty opened her mouth to speak, but Alice held up her hand to curb her.  “I’d like to hear it from him, directly, darling. He’s a writer, surely he can speak for himself?”

Jughead finished his last bite of pie and took a long sip of lemonade before speaking. “I’m not going anywhere, Mrs. Cooper. Even if— _when_ , I get a teaching job, I’ll always be in J.J.’s life.” He stole a glance at Betty, which quickly drew her mother’s attention.

Alice’s suspicious gaze bounced between them, and her jaw tensed. “Oh. I think I understand, now.”

“Grandma!” J.J. screamed, at exactly the perfect moment, rushing into the room at top speed with the obvious intention of climbing into Alice’s lap.

“J.J., no!” Betty shouted and was halfway out of her chair to grab him, but Jughead was faster, intercepting the kid first.

Jughead lifted J.J. high into the air, and the delighted boy began to giggle. “You know we have to be gentle with grandma, Buddy, we went over this on the train.”

“Budddddy!” J.J. repeated, mimicking Jughead’s tone, then wrapped his short legs around Jughead’s waist while simultaneously hugging the life out of him.

Alice’s mouth was pursed tightly as she watched the scene unfold. “J.J., baby, stop bothering Jug-head and you can have a piece of pie.”

J.J. giggled hysterically at Alice’s pronunciation of Jughead’s name. “Jug-head. You’re Jug-head.”

Alice laughed along with her grandson, clearly too charmed to take the teasing personally.

“Okay, joker.” Jughead lowered J.J. to the ground, but held him loosely in place by his shoulders. “Settle down, you. No climbing on grandma. Got it?”

“Got it, Juggie!” J.J. was already halfway to Alice when he responded.

Alice wrapped her arms around the boy and kissed his head. “I’ve missed my special guy so much.”

As Alice continued cuddling J.J., he covertly lifted her fork and started eating her pie.

Jughead frowned and reached for J.J.’s hand, but Alice waved Jughead off. “It’s okay. I only have a week with him before you go back and it’s a grandmother's prerogative to spoil her grandson. I’ll let the two of you deal with the aftermath.”

“Gee, thanks mom.” Betty sighed heavily, placed her hand on Jughead’s knee under the table, and whispered, “I’m so sorry for before, I know she can be judgmental, and…”

Betty chanced a look at Jughead, praying he wouldn’t appear put off, and her breath caught in her chest. The light through the dining room window reflected against Jughead’s eyes, making them an otherworldly blue. Instead of looking irritated, he seemed riveted by the interaction, the lines of his face relaxing as he watched her mother whisper sweet words of affection in her nephew’s ear.

Jughead turned his head and smiled at her. “It’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

With J.J. still downstairs playing with Legos, Alice took the opportunity to give Jughead a tour of the house. She marched through the hallways like a drill instructor, rattling off details in a rote tone. “We don’t go into the basement, Jughead, that was Ha—Betty’s dad’s personal space. Some ghosts are better undisturbed.” She continued down the narrow hallway, gesturing to a closed bedroom door. “And, this is Polly’s room—or _was_ ,” Alice said, frowning. “You can sleep in there...unless there’s a reason you’d prefer no to?” Her attempt at sounding casual failed miserably.

Jughead swallowed loudly and shrugged. “I’m happy to sleep wherever you think is best.”

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Betty with a knowing look. “I was an investigative journalist for years, Elizabeth. You really think I’m too stupid to recognize the sordid goings-on that are happening in that small New York City apartment of yours? The moment I heard you’d hired a man to watch my grandson, I knew it was only a matter of time before he found his way into your bed.”

Uneasiness washed over Betty, and she struggled to find the right words. If she phrased things in an unfortunate way or gave her mother the wrong answer, things could go sideways quickly. As usual, Jughead intervened, saving her from the stress.

“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Cooper,” he said, looking vaguely perturbed by her accusation. “There’s nothing sordid about our relationship.”

Alice scoffed. “Your _relationship_? You’re two young, attractive people thrown together by circumstance. Close proximity does not a relationship make. I understand that my daughter has...needs, but you can’t possibly believe this is anything more than a relationship of convenience? You seem like a smart man, Jughead, certainly you must know that if you’d, say, met in a bar somewhere, you would never have chosen one another long term?”

Jughead looked as though he’d been slapped. “There’s no scenario on Earth where I’d meet your daughter and not completely fall in love with her.”

Betty’s heart soared at his words.

Alice, let out a shocked gasp and blinked rapidly in Betty’s direction for confirmation. “Love? Are the two of you serious? You have an entire career in front of you, Elizabeth. You were just promoted to anchor!”

Betty reached for Jughead’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “My career and my romantic life are mutually exclusive, Mom, and Jughead supports me.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he does,” Alice said, followed by a snort. She took a step forward and cradled Betty’s face between her palms. “Your star is rising, honey. It’s hard enough for you to incorporate J.J. in your life, this is not the time to start taking on extra baggage.”

Betty violently pulled away from Alice, disgusted. “Jughead is not baggage!”

Alice threw her hands in the air. “You’re paying a man that you’re having sex with, Elizabeth. If you think the press won’t twist this into some sort of gigolo situation or sexual harassment lawsuit, you’ve got another thing coming. Don't be naive!”

White spots appeared in Betty’s vision, and her head began to ache. Her skin was too tight for her body, and the invisible vice squeezing her ribs had her struggling to pull air. Just as she started to spiral she felt herself being anchored by a pair of firm hands and turned by her shoulders.

“Hey.” Jughead’s knees bent to bring his face even with hers. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me, okay?” He tucked her hair behind her ears, urging her to fill and empty her lungs until her heart rate returned to normal.

Betty pressed her face into his neck and sighed in relief as his arms protectively circled her. “Don’t listen to her,” she whispered. “It’s not true.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her hair and leveled her mother with a withering look. “I can see how much you love your daughter and I get why you’re concerned. If she were my daughter, I probably would be, too. And, maybe you’re right about the way the public might see us—like I’m a kept man or she’s Harvey Weinstein—but all of that is just white noise, because I know what we are to each other.”

Alice’s features thawed, and she turned to Betty. “I assume his feelings are reciprocated?”

Jughead released Betty, and her spine straightened. “They most definitely are.”

Alice looked between them and jutted her chin toward Betty’s bedroom. “I’ll bring some fresh towels up in a bit. You two get settled in and I’ll call you for dinner in a few hours.”

It was the closest thing to acceptance Betty had gotten from her in years.

 

* * *

 

The door was barely shut when Betty backed Jughead up against it, her body singing with affection for him. “Nobody has ever—“ She kissed him, unable to wait another second. “Thank you,” she said, kissing him again, much longer this time. “Thank you, baby.”

“Pretty sure this is part of my job description—as your boyfriend...not as your hired gigolo.” Jughead cupped her face and walked her backward toward the bed without breaking their kiss. “You’re so gorgeous, I can’t believe your mom thinks people would believe you’d have to pay a guy to fuck you.”

“The way you fuck me?” She lifted her dress over her head and stepped out of her undergarments and shoes as he rid himself of his shirt. “I’d definitely pay.”

Jughead’s rough laugh made her shiver as she unbuttoned his jeans with one hand and kissed her way down his chest.

“I should really pay you, with this filthy mouth,” he said, the pad of his thumb teasing the swell of her bottom lip as she lowered herself to the ground.

She parted her lips, allowing the tip of his thumb to slip inside her mouth.

“You are unfairly sexy on your knees.” Jughead pressed his thumb to the back of her throat, then quickly pulled out, spreading saliva across her lips.

She pulled eagerly at the fastening on his pants, but he stilled her hand and kneeled in front of her. “No, I don’t want that.”

Betty quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what would make him stop her. “I never thought I’d see the day when you turned down a blow job.”

“I’d rather be here.” Jughead kissed her deeply and dipped two fingers between her thighs, pressing inside of her with a wet squelch. “God, you’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?”

Betty’s forehead fell forward onto his chest, and she held one of his shoulders for balance. She reached one hand down to fondle him while rocking into his palm.

“Do you want me to come inside of you?” He murmured into her hair, before twisting his wrist to hit an even deeper place. She gasped at the stretch, her hand slipping from his cock as she rolled her hips to meet his thrusts.

A surge of possessiveness rippled through Betty at the question. She liked the idea of carrying some part of him inside of her for the rest of the night. But, more than that, she had an urge to walk around her mother’s perfect house, sitting on her pristine furniture, wet and messy with Jughead’s cum. Betty leaned forward into his hand, inhaling harshly as she forced his fingers even deeper than before, and set her teeth on his earlobe. “Do _you_ want to?”

Jughead leaned back and smirked at her—hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, a look of adoration tinting his face—painfully beautiful. “That’s like asking me if I’m in the mood for ice cream, Betty. The answer is _always_ yes, but I’m a bit of a stickler for sex etiquette.”

Despite the house of horrors that had been Betty’s existence up to this point, she realized that this had been the moment it had all been building to. He was her reward, and for once, she would eagerly reach out and take what the universe offered.

“Jug?” Betty tilted his face, forcing him to look in her eyes. “Stay with me...in my room, in my bed. J.J. doesn’t care and I don’t want to pretend you’re not mine for one day more.”

His chest rose and fell sharply as he stared at her in disbelief, as though he wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her correctly. “Don’t—don’t say that unless you mean it, Betty.”

“I absolutely mean it,” she rushed to say, but there was an apprehension in his eyes that gave her pause. “Unless—if you don’t want this—which is—I wouldn’t want you to feel pressur—“

Jughead grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her roughly before she could finish her thought. “I want to. Of course I do.”

Though Betty was elated by Jughead’s answer, she couldn’t fully accept it until he knew all of the facts of her past and could give his consent freely. Despite the very obvious hole in her family’s history, he had never asked where her father was or why he was not in her life. With the horrible stigma she’d been suffering, she couldn’t let him blindly attach himself to her. He deserved to make an informed decision, and though it would be painful to accept his rejection, she would willingly let him go if that’s what he wanted. “Juggie…”

“What’s wrong?” His brow creased; he knew her well enough to tell that something was off. “If you’ve changed your mind—“

“No! I haven’t,” She winced at the misunderstanding, but took a beat to gather her strength before speaking, afraid of her words coming out muddled. “I just—there are some things about me that you might not like if you knew them, things that might make you reconsider your decision to be with me.”

“I highly doubt that.” Jughead laughed as though what she’d said were a punchline to a joke and not a segue into talking about the worst trauma of her past. “Come here,” he said, sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, and pulled her into his lap. “What’s this dark secret that’s going to drive me away?”

Betty leaned her head against his shoulder and burrowed into his chest. “It’s about my father.”

“You mean that he’s a murderer, or that he tried to murder you?”

She picked her head up, surprised not only by his knowledge of the situation but his casual acceptance of it. “How did you find out about it?”

He sheepishly dropped his eyes and busied himself by tracing the line of her collarbone. “The night of the storm, your cousin got pretty drunk.”

“Cheryl.” Betty shook her head in resigned irritation. “She turns into Wendy Williams after two drinks.”

“She was way past that limit well before I got home.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

His fingertip dipped into the hollow of her neck. “Why didn’t you?”

She shrugged and worried her bottom lip with her teeth, feeling guilty for enjoying the sting of pain a little too much. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently, like I was somebody to be pitied.”

“Hey,” he tipped her chin up with his finger. “I could never pity you, Betty, because you don’t need it. You’re a fighter, and I’ve never met anybody braver.”

“You don’t—“ she closed her eyes and started again. “Between my issues,” she gestured at her head, “and my family history, you must be worried on some level that one day I might just...snap.”

“The thought never crossed my mind.” His tone was steady and even, and when she searched his face she couldn’t find one false note.

“Well, maybe you should be worried? Maybe, I’m a little worried.”

“Shut up, Betty.” He kissed her then, hard and long, both of them running out of breath before their lips parted. “I don’t believe that people have a genetic ‘darkness’ waiting to be triggered. You’re so kind and caring, and—just stop trying to talk me out of being in love with you because it’s not going to work. Okay?”

She smiled at his insistent tone. It would be a lie to say she had Jughead’s same confidence in the powerlessness of genetics, but as long as he did she would try to live up to it. “Okay.”

“Now that that’s done.” He sat up straighter, letting one hand fall to her hip. “Giddy up,” he said, bucking his thighs under hers, his thickening cock pressing against her ass.

She let out a bemused chuckle at his eagerness and shifted her legs to straddle his lap. “Oh, you want me to do all the work, huh?”

He rolled his eyes at her playing hard to get. “Oh no, I forgot how much you hate being on top. I should never have asked.”

Betty sighed and pretended to deliberate for a moment just to tease him. “I’ll do it, I guess, but you must recognize what a hardship this is for me.”

“I’ll show you hard.” He urged her hips up, and she grabbed him at the base, edging his cock slowly inside of her.

Betty muttered a loud curse at that first perfect slide of skin.

“Shh!” Jughead immediately covered her mouth with his palm and shifted his eyes toward the door with a half-cocked grin. “You don't want to attract the attention of the management, do you?” His hand brushed over her chin, down the column of her neck, through the valley of her chest, and finally settling against her clit, which he pressed firmly with three fingers, causing her to squirm. “You’re so noisy, baby, and we haven’t even started. You make another noise that loud and I’m taking my hand away.”

A spike of arousal ran through her at the challenge, and she nodded her head. “You’re so lucky I’m into this, you bossy bitch.” She then mimed zipping and locking her lips, and his mouth curled up at her compliance. Holding onto his shoulders for support, she lifted herself up and sank back down onto his lap until she felt him bottom out.

Jughead whimpered at the move and she shot him a smug look— _who’s the noisy one now?_

“Okay, I deserved that.” Jughead’s breathing was already ragged, and the hand he’d braced on her hip tightened painfully around it. He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, just like that. _Easy_. Ride me slowly.”

Betty exhaled at the suggestion and nodded, thighs already burning as she rose and fell onto his lap at a leisurely pace. There was something intimate about being able to feel every inch of him moving languorously inside of her, bringing her to the edge of the abyss but never letting her fall over.

Jughead’s head was now resting back against the mattress, eyelids at half mast as he watched her fuck him with a hint of fascination. “You’re so beautiful, Betty. I like that I’m the only who gets to see you like this. I still can’t believe you’re mine.” He reverently caressed the side of her cheek, as though she were something rare and precious. 

Betty’s cheeks flushed, and all she wanted to do at that moment was tell him he was beautiful too, that he was perfect for her, that she hadn’t truly known what it was like to love somebody until she met him. She was so stuffed with emotion, heart stretched like a over-filled balloon that could rupture with the slightest touch.

She began to ride him faster, and he removed his hand from her center. “Slow down or I take away my hand. Just like this.” He urged her hips up and guided her back down again, but her legs began shaking from the effort to go slower. He noticed immediately and steadied her to take over. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Betty nearly cried in relief as he began to buck his pelvis against hers, pumping himself so deeply inside of her she choked on a breath.

One hand slid to her back and pinned her chest against his. “Fuck, I’m so close. I’m going to cum inside of you. Is that okay?” Her smile broke against his collarbone, but before she had a chance to answer, his fingers threaded into the back of her hair and jerked downward, forcing her to look at him. “I want to see your face...watch you fall apart.”

Betty bit down hard into her bottom lip to help her stay quiet as his fingers continued their dizzying rhythm against her clit. She was sweating now, swallowing back noises as the pressure inside of her began to grow to the point of discomfort.

“Shh...baby.” His face was pinched in concentration as he neared his peak, struggling to hold on until she could join him. His thrusts grew jagged, each one requiring a heaving breath that ghosted across her breasts, making her skin tingle. She was almost there, almost with him. “Fuck, I really want to cum inside of you. Do you want me to fill you up?”

“Yes! Oh God!” Betty shattered at the question, tightening and fluttering around his cock, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. The force of her orgasm rattled her, but he held her through it and whispered words of encouragement in her ear.

“Love you,” He stuttered against her cheek as he emptied himself inside of her with a relieved groan.

They collapsed sideways into an exhausted heap, sinking onto the floor with their limbs still intertwined and him softening inside of her. He moved to pull out, but she grabbed his ass and forced him deeper inside, slinging her leg over his thigh to trap him there. “Not yet.”

“Greedy.” Jughead laughed and kissed the side of her head. “You can keep me here as long as you need.”

Her brain immediately supplied a response, but it remained unspoken.

_Forever. I want to keep you here forever._

 

* * *

 

Despite recovering from hip surgery, Alice Cooper had no problem preparing a four course dinner, proving that even when hobbled she was capable of being depressingly more efficient than Betty on a good day.

Alice was polite and sociable throughout the meal, relaxed and in good spirits, even her sarcastic asides seemed far less caustic and targeted. Betty was pleasantly surprised by her mother’s ability to play nice, yet couldn’t help but wonder what had inspired this show of graciousness.

Betty felt Jughead glance at her through his peripheral vision, his brow quirking as his gaze slid from her to where her mother was sitting. Betty shrugged subtly and grabbed his hand beneath the privacy of the table, resting their joined hands high on her thigh.

“What do you two kids have planned for the rest of the week?” Alice sandwiched a small bite of roast chicken between a morsel of sweet potato and part of a green bean, and placed it in her mouth, chewing methodically as she waited for a response.

Betty cleared her throat and lowered her fork to her plate. “I thought I’d show Jughead Pop’s, maybe take him for a swim in Sweetwater River? We can always go for a walk to see how the remains of Thornhill are doing. Cheryl still refers to it as her best work.”

Alice rolled her eyes with exasperation at the last suggestion. “Really, Elizabeth, will your morbid fascination with the Blossoms ever end? You’re going to scare off your gentleman friend if you start giving him the Riverdale ghost tour. You’re father’s side of the family is...unsavory.”

Her mother’s way of coping with their family tragedy was to avoid the past and push through adversity like a weed breaking through pavement. In contrast, Betty could never stop herself from turning over old stones.

She knew her mother was sensitive about their father’s crimes, but it wasn’t like they weren’t splashed all over the newspapers for months. A cursory google search would have told Jughead everything he needed to know, if he’d wanted to look. “He’s already met Cheryl, remember mom? He’s under no delusions about our family.”

Alice made a considering noise and lifted a glass of Cabernet to her lips. “Speaking of Cheryl, she called a half hour ago to check on J.J. She had a lot of opinions about your nanny.” She turned to Jughead and narrowed her eyes. “She really likes you. Cheryl doesn’t like anybody, so I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing or not.”

Jughead smiled at J.J., who was building a castle out of the mashed yams with his fork. “We bonded over our shared fear of losing your daughter to the elements.”

Alice frowned and pushed her plate a few inches to the side. “Cheryl also told me everything you did for Elizabeth when she was injured, that you ran out into a hurricane to find her. That was very brave.”

“It wasn’t brave, it was selfish.” Jughead shook his head and stole a soft glance at Betty, squeezing her hand under the table. “I don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have Betty Cooper in it.”

Alice looked between the two of them and sighed. “Well, I guess that’s something. Listen, Jughead, I know we got off on the wrong foot, and that was mostly my fau—“

“—entirely your fault, mom,” Betty interjected.

“Fine, it was _entirely_ my fault.” Alice waggled her hands dramatically. “But if everything that’s happened with Hal and Jason Blossom over the years has taught me anything it’s that truly good men are not easy to come by.” She angled her head toward Jughead. “You seem like a good man and you obviously make my daughter happy, so I won’t stand in your way. I assume Elizabeth has filled you in on our family’s unfortunate personal history?”

Jughead looked to Betty before answering, but she stepped in to save him the trouble of crafting a diplomatic answer. “Yes, mom. Jug has already plumbed the depths of our family’s depravity.”

“And he’s still here?” Alice’s eyebrow arched impossibly high. “You don’t scare easily, do you, Jughead Jones?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good.” Alice removed the cloth napkin from her lap and slapped it down on the tabletop. “Now, let me tell you about the story I’m working on for ‘Ocean Drive Magazine’ before we have brandy?”

“Boring!” J.J. jumped off his booster seat and crawled under the table, popping up on the other side between Jughead’s legs and climbed into his lap. “Want you to read me story.”

“J.J., you little imp!” Alice started to get up, but Jughead politely waved her off.

“I don’t mind, I’m used to it.” Jughead ruffled J.J.’s shiny copper locks. “But, Buddy, you’re dreaming if you think I’m reading you one word before you clean up your toys and brush your teeth. This isn’t a pigsty.”

“I am piglet.” J.J. began to intermittently squeal and snort like a pig, burrowing so hard into Jughead’s chest they almost fell off the chair.

Jughead scooped J.J. up and held him upside down by his legs, sending the boy into a fit of high pitched hysterics.

“Juggie!” J.J.’s squeal was nearly ear-splitting.

“Buddy!” Jughead bellowed back at him, showing no mercy.

As Betty watched her mom laughing with Jughead and J.J., a warm feeling settled in her chest. After the incident with her father, Betty never dreamed she’d ever have a normal life again. They had all given that to her. And though she knew it was too early to have these thoughts, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to a day when Jughead might be playing with their kid at her mother’s house.

Betty hadn’t had an easy time so far in life, but if there was one thing she didn’t have anxiety over, it was Jughead. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud for fear of tempting fate, she knew in the marrow of her bones that he was _it_ for her. Theirs was a forever kind of love.

Jughead threw his head back and chuckled as J.J. took swipes at his stomach with tiny hands, scrambling like an overturned crab.

Betty leaned down, kissed J.J. on the top of his nose, and whispered in the little boy’s ear. “Tickle him, pumpkin. He’s very ticklish on the belly.”

As J.J. followed Betty’s instructions, Jughead turned to her with a look of betrayal before doubling over from J.J.’s assault. “J’accuse! You’re supposed to be on my side! What happened to standing by your man?”

Betty feigned confusion and looked at their feet. “I am standing by my man. Right next to him.”

“Don’t use semantics on me, Cooper!”

Just as J.J. started to get the drop on Jughead, the front door creaked open and a thin figure walked into the foyer. It was just one moment, but it would change everything that came after it.

Betty grabbed Jughead’s forearm and scrambled to grab J.J from his arms, resting the boy against her hip. Jughead looked puzzled, but as he followed her conflicted stare to the front of the room, the realization and horror dawned on him. He took a protective step toward Betty and asked, “Is that—?”

Alice gasped and covered her mouth with a shaky hand, tears beginning to stream down her face. “Are you really here?”

A beat-up camping backpack fell to the floor with a thud, and an ethereal beauty with wild blonde hair and familiar eyes emerged from the shadows like an apparition, floating through the entrance of the dining room. “I’m home, mom.”

Betty swallowed the tight lump sitting in the back of her throat and pasted on her best Cooper smile. “Welcome home, Polly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. It’s a mean cliffhanger, but hey—you got fluff and smut to make up for it.
> 
> Sorry again for the delay, hopefully that won’t happen again. I truly loved and appreciated all of your comments on the last chapter, so thanks for sticking with this fic. 
> 
> There are only two chapters left (and possibly a epilogue, if needed), so we’re in the home stretch. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this one, so if you have the time to drop a comment and let me know, I would love that! <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey. Remember me?
> 
> Sorry the length of time between updates was crazy long, but I swore I’d be back and I am. I started a new job to do my clinical hours for grad school and I’m still taking classes, so I’m basically a zombie. I also started writing ‘The Greenhouse Effect’, a little three-shot about the core four running away, so maybe check that one out if you’re interested?
> 
> TRIGGER ALERT: There’s some pregnancy kink (ie. getting off on pretending you’re knocking somebody up during sex). I know it’s a squick for some people, so I’m warning up front. It’s pretty obvious where it starts, so if you hate that kind of thing, just skip to the next scene divider once they start talking babies.
> 
> Many thanks to ArsenicPanda for holding my hand through the beta process.
> 
> I think I aged ten years trying to write this one, so I hope you like it!

 

* * *

 

 

Betty ushered Jughead into her childhood bedroom and quietly shut the door behind her. She walked directly to the closet to retrieve her suitcase, dropping it open on the bed as an afterthought as she continued her path to the chest of drawers.

 

“What are you doing?” Jughead asked, panic beginning to course through his body as he helplessly watched Betty wrench the first drawer open and empty its contents onto the bed. “We’re not leaving.”

 

“His mother is back.” Betty wouldn’t look at him, choosing instead to focus on lining up the clothes in her case by type. “He doesn’t need us anymore.”

 

Betty turned to collect more clothes from the drawer, and Jughead shut the top of her case. “You can’t be serious.”

 

She froze with her back to him, but he could see the muscles in her arms tense as she tightened her fists around a pair of blue gingham shorts. “What else can we do, Jug? He’s not ours.”

 

He was thrown for a moment by his inclusion in the statement, as if he were an actual factor in J.J.’s future. The truth was, Jughead’s life had been so consumed with spending time with the boy, he could barely remember what it was like before.

 

“Stop.” He pulled the shorts from Betty’s hands and tossed them back into the drawer. “Just stop.”

 

She started to cry, and the color of her eyes intensified, red rims contrasting against deep jade irises. “I can’t.”

 

“Come here.” Jughead sat on the edge of the mattress and tugged Betty into his lap in one movement. She pressed her face against his neck and let out a shuddering breath. “This isn’t what’s best for him, Betts, and you know it. Your mom knows it, too, hell, even Polly must know it on some level.”

 

Her nose smushed against his throat as she nodded. “But you saw his face when she walked in. They love each other. How can we take that away from him?”

 

“Your sister is not equipped to give J.J. the stability he needs. I know more than anybody that simply loving a kid isn’t enough.”

 

“What do you expect me to do? Sue my sister for custody of her own child?”

 

Deep down, he knew Betty had a point. As poor of a mother as Polly was, she was still family. If Jughead were in Betty’s shoes, he couldn't say for certain he could make the hard choice and risk his relationship with JB. “No, of course I don’t, but there has to be another option somewhere between ‘Kramer Versus Kramer’ and allowing Polly to jerk him around again.”

 

Betty shifted back to look in his eyes. Her face was sad but resigned, eyes dry other than wet lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks. She pressed her fingers against his jaw and sighed. “What would you have wanted, if your mom came back for you?”

 

“She didn’t.” It was obvious to Jughead by her expression that they both knew he had ducked the question. “And, I’m better off that she didn’t.”

 

She examined his face closely, and her expression twisted with disbelief. “No, you wanted her to come back. You’re either lying to me or yourself, but either way it’s not the truth.”

 

He ran a hand roughly through his hair and shook his head. “Maybe, I did want her to come home, but I truly believe I was better off she didn’t.”

 

“Oh, Jug.” Betty sniffed loudly and took one of his hands in hers. The other one rested against his cheek, her thumb grazing the edge of his cheekbone the way his mother used to soothe him. “I’m so sorry she hurt you like that.”

 

This was all new to him, caring about people other than his sister, having them care about him. He was well-versed in how to be selfless; giving without receiving was all he’d ever known. But being offered comfort, much less accepting it? What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

 

Suddenly overwhelmed, Jughead jerked his head away from Betty’s palm. “Your hands are too warm.”  

 

Hand still hovering in the air, Betty’s eyes danced quickly over his features. “Baby, I know this all hits a little too close to home for you—”

 

“And yet, you still won’t take what I have to say seriously.”

 

The only thing keeping him rooted to the bed was her weight on his lap and the fact that he loved her too damn much to bolt from the house like a spooked horse. But he wanted to, and if genetics determined things like that, one day he probably would.

 

“Jug—” Betty grabbed his chin roughly and forced him to look at her. “I hate what happened to you, but Polly isn’t your mom and J.J. isn’t you. This isn’t the same at all.”

 

“Right.” Jughead laughed bitterly and shuffled Betty onto the mattress beside him, then stood up and grabbed his wallet from the top of the dresser. “I’m sure it’ll work out splendidly for them.”

 

“Where are you going?” Her voice was shaky, and he knew if he’d had the balls to look her in the eye, the hurt he’d see there would likely stop him in his tracks.

 

So, he kept walking.

 

“I need air,” he huffed, slamming the bedroom door open and leaving without a backward glance.

 

Maybe he and his mother weren’t that different after all?

 

* * *

 

Jughead wasn’t sure where he was walking; he only knew he had to put as much distance between himself and the Cooper house as possible. He headed toward the river, as the cold night air began to nip at his skin. He should’ve thought to grab a jacket while flying out of the room in a huff.

 

J.J. may not have been his kid by blood, but he was the center of Jughead’s universe. He ate breakfast with the boy every morning, bandaged and kissed all of his cuts, and wiped his sweaty forehead after he’d had a bad dream. To prioritize a person over yourself for almost eight months and then have that purpose ripped away would force a total life recalibration.

 

Jughead found a bench next to the bank of Sweetwater River and sank into it, then stared at the gust of water rushing downstream, an unstoppable force of nature that swept everything in its path up with it. He felt no better moored than a piece of loose driftwood or any of the fallen leaves he noticed sail past him. He had no more control than they did.

 

The sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket pulled him out of his thoughts, and he reached for it, assuming it to be Betty. He was just about to decline the call when he saw his sister’s name and answered it.

 

“JB,” he exhaled in relief.

 

“Have I lost you to the suburbs, yet?” She asked, a wicked, teasing tone to her voice. “I know how much you love big box stores.”

 

His finger traced a crack in the seat of the bench, and he aimlessly wondered how many others had sat where he was during a hard time when they needed time to themselves. “Tempting, but I actually can’t wait to get back to the city.”

 

“Why? Do we have a white man’s ‘Get Out’ situation to contend with or is Betty’s mom a different brand of horror show?” When he didn't react or answer right away, her voice softened. “Are you okay?”

 

Jughead laughed, and the sound was anything but joyful. “J.J.’s mom showed up.”

 

“No. Fucking. Way. Did she say why?”

 

“I’m sure you can guess.” He wiped a tear that had rolled down his cheek. “Betty’s devastated.”

 

“And you?”

 

“I’m…” Jughead looked around and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I’m sitting alone on a bench by the river feeling sorry for myself.”

 

“Ugh, Jug. Whatever your instincts are, you’ve gotta resist them.”

 

Jughead smiled at the truth of her statement. “That’s the opposite advice given to most people.”

 

She exhaled a long breath. “You’re not most people. Neither am I. I think we’ve probably got to accept that about ourselves by now.”

 

“My instincts are telling me to hop the first train out of this town.”

 

“And what does your brain say?”

 

He shrugged to himself. “That it would be the biggest mistake of my life.”

 

“Go home, brother. Don’t leave Betty to feel shitty all by herself. You’d probably punch a guy if he did that to me.”

 

“Normally, I would have a very mean comeback for that.”

 

“Yeah, and normally, I’d just call you a dumbass and hang up the phone, but these are dark times. I’m sorry about the kid.”

 

“Thanks, JB. You’re the most annoying person I know, but I love you.”

 

“Love you too, dumbass. Also, don’t be a dumbass!” She warned before ending the call.

 

* * *

 

Jughead returned from his walk, sullen and ashamed. Betty was hurting and only trying to make the best of a very bad situation. She was doing what she needed to do to stay sane, and he had thwarted her efforts at every turn like a spoiled child tantruming after being denied a pudding.

 

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard his name being called out by an unfamiliar face in the dark.

 

“Jughead?”

 

Jughead walked back down and flipped the nearest lightswitch, illuminating the foyer. “Polly.” His jaw tensed, trying to hold back the tirade of complaints that had been building in his mind. “You’re up late.”

 

She was wearing a frilly, pale blue nightgown, like something out a Jane Austen novel. Her hair was clean now, smoothed into place with a matching satin headband, and fell into waves across the swell of her breasts. “I couldn’t sleep.”

 

“I know the feeling. Well, goodnight.” Unwilling to make small talk with her, Jughead turned to ascend the stairs again.

 

“Wait!” She whispered, hand outstretched. “I know—look, I know you probably hate me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate myself a little bit, too.”

 

“What do you want, Polly?” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to continue. He had no intention of making her feel better. If she was looking for absolution, she could take that up with her priest.

 

“I heard you arguing with Betty.” Her forehead wrinkled with concern as her hands wrung themselves out. At that moment, she reminded him uncannily of Betty, and that was the only reason he paused.

 

“Couples have arguments,” he said, voice cold and face closed off. At this point, all he knew of her was that she was a terrible mom with a penchant for gauzy clothing. He wasn’t about to engage in girl talk with her.

 

“I don’t want you arguing because of me. Betty’s had a lot of pain in her life and I don’t want to be responsible for tainting the one bright spot she’s had in years.”

 

Jughead snorted a laugh. “Well, aren’t you considerate, always thinking of others.”

 

“You don’t think I know I’ve been a selfish person?” Polly’s hands curled into fists, and a determined look overtook her face. She stormed across the foyer and stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at him. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not only back because of J.J. but because of Betty? She deserves to live her life. She’s not the one who got knocked up by some asshole who took off. She shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes, and neither should you.”

 

“J.J. is not a mistake,” Jughead growled, not buying this apology tour for a moment.

 

“No!” Her eyes expanded in alarm, hands to her chest after an aborted reach for his hand. “That’s not what I meant. Of course he’s not a mistake. I just meant—”

 

“—yes, it’s been hard for Betty, but it’s also been worth it. If you’re taking him away because you think you’re doing us a favor, then please—” Jughead took a labored breath to collect himself and shook his head. “Please don’t. Don’t take him. We love him.”

 

Polly sighed, and her shoulders drooped in defeat, the tilt of her angelic features lulling him into a false sense of victory that would soon be shattered. “I know you do, I can see that. But. I love him, too, and he’s mine.”

 

_He’s mine._

 

It was like a punch to the gut, and he realized then that the cause had already been lost. She’d clearly made up her mind sometime between the compound in Fox Forest and her mother’s doorstep, and nothing he could say would make a damn bit of difference.

 

Jughead stared at her for a moment and shrugged, petulantly. “I just hope you remember that in six months time when Phish passes through town on tour or you discover a new love of mountain climbing.”

 

Polly raised an eyebrow, looking uncannily for a moment like her sister. “I’m more of a T-Swift fan, and I have a fear of heights, actually.”

 

Jughead raised an eyebrow back at her and allowed himself to indulge his pettiness. “Taylor Swift is a derivative hack.”

 

The corners of Polly’s eyes creased as she smiled, signaling a detente between them.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty was curled into the fetal position, clinging to the same pair of gingham shorts she’d been holding earlier like it was a security blanket. He could tell she had been crying, and the thought that he was the one to put her in that state made him physically ill.

 

She stirred at the sound of the door but didn’t acknowledge his presence, choosing instead to twist the fabric in her hands beyond its natural shape.

 

“I’m an asshole,” he whispered, hovering by the door, unsure if he was still welcome in the room. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Betty sniffed and wiped her eyes with the shorts, still refusing to look at him. “I thought you’d left me.”

 

Jughead didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any worse than he had, but he was very mistaken. “No. No, I would never—” He inched closer to her, stopping when he’d reached the foot of the bed. “I love you. You know that.”

 

She finally looked up at him, eyes puffy and bloodshot from crying, and her tone was quiet even when she spoke. “You wouldn’t be the first man who claimed he loved me and then walked out.”

 

He crawled onto the mattress and pulled her into a painfully tight embrace, hoping she could feel just how much he regretted his earlier behavior. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry I worried you.”

 

Her fingers dug into his sides as he held her head to his chest, neither of them saying anything until her breathing had calmed. “I can’t lose both of you,” she said, in a tiny voice, and his self-loathing grew exponentially.

 

“You won't.” He pressed a kiss into her hair, and she looked up at him with puffy eyes.

 

“Promise me,” she said, her bottom lip quivering. “I know I can’t hold you to it, but promise me anyway.”

 

“I promise,” Jughead said quickly, nodding for emphasis. “I’m here as long as you want me.”

 

“I always want you,” she whispered, voice rough from crying, and she nodded at the door. “Just, please don’t ever walk out like that again on me. If you need to go blow off steam, you can tell me and I’ll understand, but don’t just...leave me.”

 

“Never again, God, I promise.” Jughead thought about J.J., and how different their lives were going to be when they got back to the city. Losing the boy would be agony, but losing them both would break him. He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger on her skin. “One of these days, I’m going to get things right the first time.”

 

“I very seriously doubt that.” She smiled at him, and it was like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds after a bad storm.

 

* * *

 

Betty insisted on leaving the next day. She said she wanted to give Polly space to reconnect with J.J., but Jughead knew better. Much like him, it hurt Betty to see the kid being set up for his next emotional stumble. Polly looked contrite enough, had thanked them both for caring for her son, as if they weren’t getting something even better out of it in return.

 

“Are you sure you have to go? We’ve barely had any time together, you haven’t even had a chance to stop by Pop’s.” Alice’s hands were gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

 

Betty nodded and made eye contact with Jughead in the back seat through the mirror on her sun visor. “With my new promotion, I just think it’s better we get back so I can get settled.”

 

“Of course, that makes sense.” On the surface, Alice’s voice seemed chipper, but there was a tinge of sadness underneath. “Maybe next time.”

 

“Maybe.” Betty smiled tightly, but the light never reached her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Jughead sat numbly on the edge of J.J.’s bed, clutching a plush cat he’d won the boy out of a claw machine at Chuck E. Cheese earlier in the summer. He brought the stuffed animal to his face and inhaled deeply in the hope of finding a trace of J.J.’s scent. It was sterile, just like the rest of the house had become in the month J.J. had been gone. If Jughead’s phone weren't filled with evidence of J.J.’s existence, he might have thought the boy’s fleeting presence in his life was just a dream.

 

It had been a month since J.J. stayed in Riverdale with his mother, and Jughead still couldn’t quite believe he wasn’t coming back.

 

“What are you doing in here?” Betty poked her head inside of the room, careful to keep her eyes only on his face and not to touch anything. She never went into J.J.’s room any more. She’d amputated it from her mind like a gangrened limb.

 

Jughead looked up at her and brushed a hand down the spine of the stuffed animal in his hands. “Just feeding our cat.”

 

Betty offered him a brittle smile that could easily be read as a wince if the context were different. “O-okay. Just close this room up when you’re done.”

 

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Why?”

 

“I don’t…” She nodded her head, like she was coming to a decision in her mind. “There’s nobody staying in that room anymore. We should keep it shuttered. You shouldn’t be playing around in there.”

 

“Betty—“

 

“I have to go to work.”

 

He rolled his eyes at her. “What a shock.”

 

“It’s my job.”

 

“Your shift doesn’t start for hours.”

 

Her face faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure, chin set and elevated. “There’s other—I have other responsibilities.”

 

“Yes, you do.” He stared her down, neither of them directly addressing the elephant in the room. To avoid feeling J.J.’s absence, she was avoiding their home...and by extension, him.

 

Betty broke contact first, running a shaky hand through her hair. “I’m sorry. I’m going to be late.”

 

“Okay,” he said, though they both knew it wasn’t. “Maybe, I’ll see you later?”

 

“Maybe.” She smiled again, this time slightly more authentically. “I love you, Jug.”

 

And with that, she was gone.

 

“Love you, too,” Jughead murmured toward an empty doorway.

 

He rose from the carefully made bed and brushed the wrinkles from the blanket before gently resting the stuffed cat against the pillow and shutting the bedroom door tightly behind him as he left.

 

* * *

 

The leaves had long turned brown on the trees that lined 5th Avenue, beautiful bursts of color giving way to muted browns and finally nothingness. The buildings in New York City were forever static, timeless in their permanence, a perfect backdrop to the dynamic lives of the millions of people they contained.

 

Earlier that day, Jughead received an urgent text from Veronica to meet him at Americano, an Italian espresso bar five blocks off Lincoln Center. The place was packed when he entered, fashionable men and women trying to get a caffeine fix during their lunch hour.

 

It was hard to see through to the back, but Jughead took a breath and forged forward, pressing himself against a wall of people. It was only after being extruded out the other side of the throng that Jughead was finally able to see Veronica. She was sitting on a stool at the end of a white Formica bar, wrapped in a festive tartan skirt, and casually sipping a cappuccino with a maple leaf design on top.

 

“This place is popular. I’m surprised you could get a seat here.”

 

“I know the owner.” Veronica removed her handbag from the empty chair next to her, gesturing for him to sit. Despite the crowd, she had managed to hold a spot open for him with very little effort.

 

“Of course you do.” Jughead dropped onto the stool and tuned to face her. “What’s good here?”

 

“Oh, I ordered you an Americano,” she said, just as it was placed in front of him.

 

It was exactly what he would’ve ordered for himself. He leaned over the cup and inhaled, letting the earthy aroma wash over him. “How did you know that I—?”

 

“The place is literally called _Americano_. I took a stab in the dark.” She perched her bag on her lap, unfastened the clutch, and pulled an envelope out, which she pointedly placed in front of Jughead on the counter. “This letter contains the information we discussed. As promised, it has the power to destroy her.” Her confident smile sent a chill down his spine.

 

Jughead wasn’t sure if Veronica was being unnecessarily dramatic or whether she truly had discovered the key to getting Sabrina Spellman off his back, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He stared at the envelope as if it were a landmine, as if merely touching the paper would set it off. “Define destroy.”

 

“You’re not the only man that witch bedded to climb her way to the top.”

 

His head picked up. “I never said that we—?”

 

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Please. You’re a man and she’s a hot blonde who somehow gained access to your laptop. You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to leave your computer unattended in a public place. Too paranoid.”

 

“Not paranoid enough, it seems.” He sighed and glanced at the letter again. “Listen, Betty doesn’t know about Sabrina...“

 

“She’s not an idiot, Jughead, she’s a snoopy journalist. I’m sure she’s figured it out by now. It didn’t exactly take me long. Besides, it’s not like she thought you arrived at her doorstep as pure as the driven snow.”

 

“I—I’m embarrassed. I always thought I was too smart to get taken in by a nice pair of legs.” He lifted the coffee cup to his lips, for lack of anything better to do with his hands. “Apparently, not.”

 

“Then let’s make sure she doesn’t do it to anybody else. Open it.” Veronica tipped her gaze toward the counter. “It’s not going to bite.”

 

Jughead set the cup down, cautiously reached for the envelope, and tore it open. As his eyes skimmed over the report within, a hot anger began to stir in his chest. Sabrina hadn’t just romanced and used him, she’d done it to several professors in her undergraduate program and many in her current one. He wondered how many other people she’d taken advantage of who hadn’t made the list. “She could go professional, with this track record.”

 

“She’s a smart girl. Not sure why she felt she needed to use her other assets to get ahead.” Veronica finished her cappuccino and replaced the empty glass onto the saucer. “The important question is: what do you want to do about it?”

 

Jughead shrugged, and the burning in his chest increased. “None of these men or women are going to go on record. It wouldn’t just be embarrassing for them, it would be career suicide.”

 

Veronica hummed in consideration, before her eyes lit up with excitement and she poked his shoulder. “Then we’ll just have to catch her in the act, won’t we?”

 

He chuckled at the suggestion. “Are you suggesting a sting operation?”

 

“Why not? We’ll just get somebody to pose as the administrator of a prestigious fellowship she was ‘nominated’ for and see if she takes the bait. We’ll get her to incriminate herself and then you’ll show it to your department head along with this report and tell them what she threatened to do to you.”

 

“Even if that worked, and that’s a huge _if_ , who would we get to do this? She knows you, she’s seen pictures of JB, and she already met Betty and Cheryl.”

 

Veronica rapped her nails on the table in thought. “I don’t suppose—“

 

Jughead held up a hand. “If you’re about to say Archie, you can stop right there.”

 

She tossed back her head back and giggled. “Oh, come on. I may be in love with the man, but give me a little credit. I was thinking perhaps...Toni?”

 

It wasn’t the worst idea. Toni was certainly tough enough to give as good as she got and had enough experience around investigative journalists that she probably knew how to perform simple entrapment. “Do you think she’d go for it?”

 

“For her girl, Betty? Of course!” Veronica rested her cheek on her fist and furrowed her brows. “She’ll need a bit of refining though, and unfortunately, with the wedding planning, I’m not sure I have the time to Eliza Doolittle her into passing as somebody who works in academia. I’d ask Cheryl, but she’s not very magnanimous with her time for people she doesn’t like. And that includes just about everybody.”

 

Remembering what Alice told him about Cheryl when he was in Riverdale, Jughead smiled widely. “Not me.”

 

* * *

 

Jughead wandered around Central Park for hours, carefully avoiding the playgrounds and paths he used to frequent with J.J. There were too many memories around every turn, and he wasn’t ready to face them just yet.

 

The dog run was Archie’s idea. As they were avoiding all things child-related, he felt that dogs would be an even trade. Neither of them had dogs though, which left them parked on a bench watching other people play with their pets, and making Jughead feeling like a creepy dog voyeur.

 

The small area was loud from a cacophony of barking, and a gamey odor hung in the air. Jughead watched as a young Wall Street shark-type in a jogging suit bent down and lifted a sizable poop from the ground with an inside out plastic bag, then deposited it in the trash. He wasn’t sure why Archie thought this would be an interchangeable experience with taking kids to the playground.

 

“Why are we here, Arch?” Jughead shouted over the barking, cringing at the whiny tone of his own voice.

 

“You’ve been so down since the little guy left, I thought you could use a new source of cute.” Archie pulled the wrapper off a straw and stuck it into his neon orange smoothie.

 

“I’m fine.” Jughead shrugged, trying and failing to appear casual. “I’ve totally gotten used to him being gone.”

 

“Nope.” Archie took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes in ecstasy at the flavor.

 

“They don’t let single dudes on a playground who aren’t accompanying a child, you know, because of pedophilia.” Jughead stretched his arms over his head and sighed. “Being at a dog run without a dog...this almost feels more wrong.”

 

Archie’s head swiveled toward him and his jaw dropped open. “Are you implying that people are going to think we’re into beastiality?”

 

“No!” Jughead covered his face with his hands and rubbed hard. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you?”

 

“Me?” Archie stabbed himself in the chest with his fingers, then pointed at a nearby Shar-Pei. “You’re the one who made the correlation between pedophiles and dogless dudes hanging out at the dog run. I’m not the crazy one for thinking you’re talking about having sex with dogs!”

 

A Chinese woman froze in place, lifted her Shar-Pei off the ground, and backed away from them. A middle aged white man with a labradoodle quickly followed suit.

 

Taking in the scene, Jughead stopped rubbing his eyes for a moment, hands frozen on his forehead. “Oh shit, you’re right.”

 

“Thank you.” Archie pulled the straw from his smoothie into his mouth and sucked hard. “I love pumpkin spice season, don’t you?”

 

“No.” Jughead’s face pulled into a scowl. “God, no. Why would you even ask me that?”

 

“Dude, what the fuck? Everybody likes pumpkin spice season, okay?” Archie straightened in his seat, as if a lightbulb had just gone off over his head. “This just proves you’re depressed!”

 

“I’m depressed because I don’t enjoy pumpkin spice season?” Jughead asked in a challenging tone.

 

Archie threw one arm in the air, as if Jughead’s irritable response was only further proving his point.

 

Jughead took a deep breath and tried to appear more in control. “Why are we here, Arch? You didn’t just ask me here to look at other people’s dogs.”

 

Archie took a long sip of his drink, relishing the taste with a hum of approval. “No, I had you meet me here because I thought it would be a happy location to ask you if you wanted to be my best man.”

 

Jughead deflated, his body connecting with the back of the bench in defeat. “I’m a prick. Here you are, going out of your way to do this nice thing, and I’m ruining everything as usual.”

 

Archie grabbed Jughead’s shoulder a little too firmly. “You’re not ruining everything.”

 

“I am. I’m a ruiner. This is vintage me.” Jughead sank lower in his seat.

 

Archie dipped his head into Jugheads eyeline. “You could make it up to me, bro, by...I don’t know...saying yes?”

 

Jughead inwardly groaned at his continuing myopathy. “Of course, man. I’d be honored.”

 

“Sweet!” Archie’s face lit up, and he scooped Jughead up into a bear hug, which was interrupted prematurely by a park ranger clearing their throat.

 

“Do either of you have a dog at this run?” She asked, looking between them.

 

“Why? Is it suddenly illegal to look at animals...in a park?” Jughead asked, unable to keep the snark out of his voice.

 

“We’ve had some complaints.” The park ranger leveled him with a withering look. “If you’d like to look at animals, you can do so at the zoo on the East side of the park. This area is for dog owners only, so I’m going to have to ask you and your partner to leave.”

 

“Roger that.” Jughead saluted the woman and gathered their things. “Well, that was a bust.”

 

Archie held his finger up as he frantically searched something on his phone. “Oh! The zoo has red pandas, Jug! Baby red pandas are so tiny and cute. They’re, like, the Ariana Grande of pandas!”

 

“Get out of here already, perverts,” the Shar-Pei owner from earlier hissed at them.

 

“Did you know that having a dog in a New York City apartment is technically animal abuse?” Jughead retorted, then ran for the exit, holding the gate door open for Archie before slamming it behind them.

 

Archie laughed and threw an arm around Jughead’s shoulders. “How’s Betty?”

 

Jughead would’ve tried to get away by answering with a wordless shrug were it not for the heavy weight of Archie’s muscular forearms resting across his neck. “It’s kind of a day by day thing. Sometimes, I barely see her, and when she is home she’s too exhausted from work to hang out. I know she’s just trying to distract herself from J.J. being gone by throwing herself into her job, but...I don’t know.”

 

“You miss her.”

 

“When J.J. left, it’s almost like I lost them both.” It was the first time Jughead had put words to what he was thinking, but Archie always was a bit of a horse whisperer when it came to Jughead’s feelings. “What if her mom was right, and we really are just a relationship born of proximity?”

 

Archie stopped short and turned Jughead by the shoulders to face him. “Stop trying to fuck your life up, bro. I know you’ve never really been in a serious relationship before, but they’re hard! This is what real life looks life. Sometimes, you hit a rough patch, but you keep going.”

 

“Not always. My mom didn’t.”

 

“And how’d that work out?” Archie pinched the muscle between his eyes, wearing a mask of frustration. “You have somebody who loves you. And, you love her, right?”

 

Jughead averted his eyes, uncomfortable under Archie’s assessing stare. Jughead sometimes forgot that underneath his friend’s goofy exterior was the same man who saw him through all his darkest times. “Right.”

 

“Cool.” Archie nodded. “Then, stop looking for reasons why it won’t work and start being a better boyfriend before Betty realizes she can do so much better than you.”

 

Jughead broke out into a grin and shook his finger. “You’ve been talking with JB about me, haven’t you?”

 

“Unlike her lazy brother, she actually goes to the gym.” Archie punched him lightly in the bicep. “Better get your saggy ass in gear so you can fit into that tux.”

 

Jughead let out a squawk. “Saggy ass?”

 

“Kidding!” Archie slapped him on the back. “Just trying to shock that sad sack look off your face.”

 

“It feels kind of disingenuous being called the best man at your wedding, when I will be standing next to somebody even better.” Feeling self-conscious, Jughead reached behind himself and scratched the back of his neck.

 

“Wh—” Archie’s brow furrowed, and his lips parted, but no sound came out.

 

“You,” Jughead clarified, to keep Archie’s brain from overheating. “I was talking about you.”

 

“Bro,” Archie exhaled, low and reverentially. “Speaking of best man, are you even going to be here to organize a bachelor party? I know you’ve got that Sugarcube thing.”

 

“Sugarloaf,” Jughead corrected, then slowed his gait to a stop. Things had been so crazy since Betty’s accident that he’d all but forgotten the month-long artist-in-residence workshop he’d committed to. If all had gone well with his professorship, it would have been the end date for his job working with J.J. But now, with J.J. gone and his academic prospects murky at best, it seemed like an afterthought. “And yeah, of course. Actually, I’m not even sure if I should g—”

 

“Don’t do that, Jug! You have to go. You were so stoked about going to it when you got in last year, said it would be amazing for your resume.”

 

Archie was so excitable at that moment, it was almost as if Jughead had brought a dog to the dog run after all. Jughead furtively glanced at his friend but began walking again. “That was before everything with Betty. I can’t leave her alone right now.”

 

“I’m going to assume you haven’t talked to her about this, because I can’t imagine she’d be down with you giving up an opportunity like this just to baby her, especially without even talking to her about it.”

 

Jughead stopped walking again and crossed his arms over his chest. “I talk to her about things.”

 

Archie arched an accusatory eyebrow at him, in a bold move that would have made Veronica Lodge proud.

 

“Okay, maybe I haven’t talked to her about _this_ particular thing, but we talk,” Jughead huffed, arms tightening uncomfortably around his torso.

 

Archie’s answering silence spoke volumes.

 

“Fine! I haven’t talked to her about this, but I will.” Jughead frowned at his own cowardice. “I promise.”

 

“You’d better,” Archie’s frown echoed his, “because everything you do to Betty splashes back on to me. Like, that time you didn’t say ‘I love you’ back to Betty right away? Ronnie blew my phone up all afternoon. I don’t want to have to listen to my fiancée complaining about you while I’m brushing my teeth every night.”

 

“Could I make it up to you somehow? Like, maybe taking you to see the Ariana Grande of pandas?” Jughead gestured to the entrance of the zoo.

 

Archie sucked in a breath and nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty was dozing quietly on the couch when Jughead entered the living room. She was wearing an old ‘S’ t-shirt of his that was rucked up over her belly, her face serene in sleep the way it hadn’t been lately during daylight hours.

 

Since their return from Riverdale, she had thrown herself headlong into her work, laser-focused on her career like a woman possessed. The network’s desire to capitalize on her newfound hero status meant a blur of public appearances and ‘face time’ on camera. It was what she wanted, what she’d worked her whole life for, but Jughead wondered if she would have been as committed had J.J. not been gone. She said she was fine, and he couldn’t deny she appeared to the world to be functioning at peak condition, but the smiles she gave him were harder to earn and never quite reached her eyes.

 

There were still glimpses of the woman he loved, like those times she’d wake with a start in the middle of the night and wordlessly reach for him under the cover of darkness, pulling him close until all the negative space between them vanished. But, in one way or another, Betty was always gone once the sun came up.

 

Not having the heart to wake her, Jughead covered Betty with a grey chenille throw blanket, tucking the silky material around her shoulders.

 

Having been stirred by the motion, Betty’s nose wrinkled, and her eyes fluttered open. “Did I fall asleep? I’m so—” she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yawned so hard he could hear her jaw crack, “—sorry. Wow. How long was I out? Did I sleep through our date?”

 

“It’s okay.” Jughead shrugged and smoothed a lock of hair back from her face. “You needed it.”

 

“No.” Betty struggled to sit up, muscles still weak from slumber. “I promised to spend time with you. I know it’s been a while.” She extended her hand and curled her fingers, signaling for him to join her.

 

“Yeah.” The tension he’d been holding in evaporated at her reassuring words. He collapsed into the spot next to her and pulled her back against his chest, dropping a quick kiss on her temple.

 

They sat in companionable silence, Betty nuzzling her face against his arm, and if Jughead focused hard enough, he could pretend things were like they had always been.

 

“I need a day off,” she said, and burrowed deeper into his side. “Not just to catch up on sleep but so we can finally finish that Hitchcock marathon we started three weeks ago.”

 

“Do you even remember where we left off?”

 

She hummed against his bicep, and he felt the corners of her mouth lift. “The perfect murder film—the one about Sacco and Vanzetti.”

 

“Rope. The credits had a noose.” He rested a hand to her neck and lightly squeezed it, grinning when she placed her hand on top of his. “We actually finished it, though.”

 

“I think I must’ve slept through the end.” She turned in his arms to look at him. “I’m sorry, honey. I know I haven’t been...fun.”

 

“You’ve got a lot on your plate.” His fingertips traced the lines of her collarbone.

 

“You do, too,” she insisted.

 

Jughead smiled wryly at her. “Not as much as before.”

 

Betty’s lips pressed together, and she averted her eyes. “I hate it when you do that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Make jokes about it.” She took a labored breath and shook her head. “It’s not easy for me, Jug, and it feels like—I don’t know—like you’re mocking me.”

 

Jughead’s stomach dropped at the accusation, and he shifted to face her. “You think I’m mocking you? I’m Welsh, humor and whisky are how we do sad. I start being serious, and it means I have to actually face what I’m trying to avoid.”

 

Her forehead creased with thought as she considered his words. “Joking might take the sting out of things for you, but it makes me feel almost like you never even cared about him.”

 

“How can you say that to me?” Rage bubbled under his skin, and he pushed himself to stand. “Just because I don’t walk around in a haze like a pod person, doesn’t mean I’m not missing him just as much as you are.”

 

“I’m a pod person?” Betty leapt to her feet, face blotchy and red with anger.

 

“I didn’t—” It struck him how badly he was mishandling things again, but self-awareness had never stopped him from fucking up before, so why start now? “Wait! Where are you going?”

 

“Back to my pod, of course!” Betty’s hands were balled so tightly into fists that Jughead was sure she had broken the skin. She shouldered him to the side and stalked off toward their bedroom, leaving Jughead alone with his spiraling thoughts.

 

He blinked at the vacant space in front of him, and, as usual, that was when all of the right things to say finally entered his mind.

 

* * *

 

Jughead stood at the doorway of their bedroom, arms folded across his chest, watching her pace the floorboards with a scowl on her face. “I don’t want to fight with you, we’re on the same side.”

 

She paused for a beat, and her frown faltered. “I don’t think I can look at you right now.”

 

“Yes, you can.” He shut the door behind him, more out of habit than anything, since there wasn’t anybody else in the apartment to wake up anymore. “You’re looking at me right now.”

 

Betty sighed and tugged her hair out of the messy bun on the top of her head. “I just feel like I’m the only one who ever feels bad. You don’t seem affected at all by J.J. being gone.”

 

“You really don’t believe that.” Jughead closed the distance between them and ran his fingers down a flaxen lock of hair. She tensed at first, but eventually relaxed, allowing him to gently comb the knots out of her hair with his fingers. “You know me well enough by now.”

 

“You’re right.” She looked up at him and blinked away a stray tear, then nodded pathetically. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry, too.” He wiped the moisture from her cheek with the back of his fingers. “That I called you a pod person.”

 

Her laugh was hoarse and humorless. “I know I’ve been a terrible roommate lately, Jug.”

 

“You’re not my roommate, Betty.” He couldn’t stop the smirk from appearing on his face, but it quickly dropped off at the sight of her contrite expression. “That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be partners.”

 

“We are partners.” Her bottom lip quivered as she stared at him, an arm’s length away and yet miles apart. “Aren’t we?”

 

Jughead sighed heavily and reached for her. “Get over here.”

 

She came willingly, smashing her face into the wall of his chest as he pulled her in. “I’m just so...sad.”

 

His hands tightened around her waist, and he pressed his lips to the side of her head. “We’re both sad. I’m sure J.J.’s sad too, with his life changing so quickly.”

 

“He doesn’t look sad when we talk to him on FaceTime,” she grumbled so bitterly he could only imagine the pout she must be wearing.

 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Jughead pulled back and bent slightly to look her in the eyes. “Our job was to keep him safe and happy when Polly couldn’t...and now she can.” Saying the words out loud didn’t make him believe them.

 

“Can she?” Her irises were a deep shade of moss, a swell of watery tears distorting their shape. “I want to believe her.”

 

“Then, believe her.” Jughead cupped her jaw, cradling her face in his palms. “And, if she can’t, we’ll be there for him again.”

 

She nodded her head slightly, shaking loose the tears that had been brimming there. “I would never do that to our child.”

 

“ _Our_ child?” Jugheads hands dropped abruptly from her face, the boldness of the statement shocking him. “You want to have a baby? With me?”

 

Betty looked exaggeratedly around the room. “Who else would I have one with?” She smiled at him, a soft and careful thing. “I just freaked you out, didn’t I?”

 

“No!” He shouted slightly too loud, his voice breaking on the end of the word. “I’m not—why would I—? I was just...what, um, when do you...see this happening?”

 

Betty’s laughter erupted unabated, and she tried to stifle it with her hand. “I’m so sorry, Juggie. I’m not making fun of you, I promise, I’ve just never seen you so horrified before.”

 

“I’m not—” Jughead took a deep breath, scrubbed a hand over his face, and started over again. “I’m still a little shocked you let me touch you whenever I want. The idea that you’d ever want... _that_ , with me, is just a little bit mindblowing.”

 

Betty reached for his face and pulled him in for a kiss, then murmured against his lips, “I love you so much. I can’t imagine having anybody’s baby but yours.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Seriously.” She smirked at his wonder and tugged him over to the bed, pushing him down to sit, then slowly lifted his stolen t-shirt from her body and tossed it on the floor. “We can practice if you like.”

 

It had been so long since the last time they’d had sex that he instantly began to harden at the sight of her topless. Jughead’s hands covered her breasts, and he peered up at her face; the expression in her eyes was dark. “You want me to put a baby in you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

His hands skimmed down to the waist of her boxer shorts and tugged them halfway down over her hips, fingers brushing back and forth below her belly button. Her stomach contracted sharply as he rested his palm against her skin. “Right here?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “Right there.”

 

“You’re going to look so sexy pregnant with my kid.” Jughead leaned forward and feathered a kiss across her pelvis.

 

Betty gasped, and her hand dropped onto his head, fingers tightening gently in his hair. “Is this getting you as hot as it’s getting me?”

 

His head tipped back to look at her. “Fuck yes.”

 

“Excellent.” She shucked her boxers, pushed him back onto the mattress, and started to pull off his pants. “How weird can we get with this before you start thinking I’ve lost my mind?”

 

Jughead reached forward, pulled Betty into his lap, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I won’t think you’ve lost your mind. Not ever.”

 

She sagged against him, pressing her head into the side of his neck. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

 

“You’re not alone,” he said, immediately remembering his commitment to Sugarloaf. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

 

Betty turned to straddle his lap, resting her bare core on top of him. “I know.”

 

She pressed her lips to his, gently at first, then they both reached for each other’s faces at the same time and deepened the kiss. She rolled her hips against his, the wet slide of skin making his eyes roll back.

 

“I’m going fuck you so hard into this mattress you won’t be able to get up.” He flipped her on her back—startling a squeal—and caged her in with his body. “I’m going to cum so hard and deep inside of you, you’ll smell like me for days.”

 

“Yes.” Her eyes darkened as her legs wrapped around his hips. “Come on, fill me up.”

 

He bent down and laved one of her nippled before sucking it into his mouth, then kissed a path back up to her ear. “You’re going to be dripping with my cum when I’m done with you.”

 

“Oh god.” Betty whimpered at the promise, tightened her legs around him, and whispered her demand. “No foreplay, no warming me up, just fuck me.”

 

Jughead haphazardly ripped his own shirt off and positioned himself at her entrance, slipping just the tip inside of her. “You want me to get you pregnant? You want my cock?”

 

“I want all of you.” Betty squeezed her thighs and pulled him the rest of the way in.

 

* * *

 

The smell of pancakes wafting past their table as waiters bustled past with loaded trays of food was the only thing keeping Jughead in his seat at Gabriela’s, a bourgeois breakfast place on the Upper West Side that catered to the wealthy soccer mom set. That, and the bottomless mimosas, though Betty had quickly confiscated his glass after he attempted a fourth refill.

 

They’d been listening to Veronica drone on for over two hours about centerpiece flowers and linen patterns, things Jughead barely knew existed before this meal and wished he could immediately unlearn. But he was the best man, and Betty was the maid of honor, so there was no hope of escaping this living hell until their friends exchanged rings.

 

Jughead tried to catch Archie’s attention, hoping he could at least find some company in his misery, but the man was hanging on every word that escaped his fiancée’s mouth like she was Martin Luther King speaking at the March on Washington.

 

“...and that’s why we decided not to go with the mariachi band for the rehearsal dinner.” Veronica lifted her champagne flute, as if toasting her own achievement. “Hello, Jughead? You haven’t said a word in the last thirty-five minutes. Don’t you have an opinion?”

 

Jughead blinked at Veronica, his mind carding through the last 500 things she might have said. “I agree with Archie.”

 

Betty shot Jughead a knowing look, then leaned her head on his shoulder, stroked a hand down the length of his arm, and proceeded to steal a strawberry from the edge of his plate.

 

“See?” Archie jumped in his seat to face his girlfriend. “I told you having a mariachi band would be cool!”

 

Veronica derisive gaze slid from Archie to Jughead. “Do we really feel like Jughead is the arbiter of all things cool? Because—and I’m not saying I hate it—but I hardly ever see him without that Dave Grohl circa ‘93 hat pulled over his fabulous hair.”

 

Jughead lifted his hands in retreat. “Never claimed to be the arbiter of cool, though I feel like I might need to steal that phrase for the title of my next book.”

 

“The one you’re planning on starting at Sugarloaf?” Archie asked, reaching for another muffin from the basket in the center of the table.

 

“What’s Sugarloaf?” Betty lifted her head and wrinkled her nose. “I vaguely remember something...is it a writer’s retreat? Jug hasn’t mentioned it in ages.”

 

“It’s a month-long writer-in-residence workshop,” Veronica answered before Jughead could get a word in. She shrugged off Jughead’s questioning look. “What? I know things, it’s a very selective program. Archie mentioned you were leaving tomorrow. I thought that was one reason we were doing brunch, no?”

 

Betty scooted her chair back to properly look at Jughead, and his stomach fell along with her expression. “You’re leaving me tomorrow? And you weren’t even going to mention it?”

 

Jughead scrambled to work some damage control. “That’s because there is nothing to mention. I’ve decided not to go.”

 

Betty’s eyes narrowed at him. “Why aren’t you going?”

 

He shrugged his shoulders and looked toward Archie for assistance, but Archie was useless, simply shaking his head and radiating guilt. Jughead leaned closer to Betty and lowered his voice. “Can we please talk about this at home.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this at home, I want to talk about it _now_.” Her eyes flashed in anger, and everything else around them, all of the people laughing and having pretty meals together, lowered to a din.

 

Veronica threw a hundred dollar bill on the table and pulled on Archie’s arm. “Let’s give them privacy, sweetie.”

 

“Um...okay.” Archie reluctantly rose from the table, mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ at Jughead, and followed Veronica outside.

 

Jughead squeezed the cotton napkin in his lap, twisting it like his insides. “I promised you I wouldn’t leave you. Are you seriously mad that I’m keeping my promise to you?”

 

Betty took a sip of water and dropped her glass on the table a little too hard. “No. You knew I would’ve told you to go to Sugarloaf, and that’s why you didn’t talk to me about it.”

 

“I didn’t want to leave you.”

 

Betty huffed out a bitter laugh. “Oh that’s such bullshit and you know it. You didn’t think you could leave me, that’s a very different thing. You’re worried that if you left, without your watchful presence, I’d...I don’t know...go insane?”

 

Jughead pulled his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair to buy some time to think.

 

Betty was right about him, about his reasons. He had feared what would happen to her mental health if he’d left, and he made the call on his own, but hearing her say it out loud made him realize just how infantilizing he was being.

 

“Is this what you really think about me? That I’m somebody who needs constant watching?” Betty wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “I existed before you met me, Jughead Jones, and I managed fine on my own.”

 

Jughead reached for her hand, but she pulled it out of reach. “Betty, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m not J.J., you’re not my nanny. You don’t just get to make decisions that affect me without my input. We’re supposed to be partners.”

 

“We are partners!”

 

Betty’s chair screeched back noisily as she moved to stand, and she hiccuped a breath. “You’re calling the people at Sugarloaf and telling them you’re going.”

 

“Betty, stop. Just listen—can we just talk about this? Please?” Jughead stood up and gently grabbed her wrist to keep her from running off. Things had gone sideways so quickly he barely had a moment to figure out how to make things right. “Stay. Please?”

 

“You had your chance to talk to me, but instead decided to make a unilateral decision about my life, so I’m making one about yours, too.” She lifted her handbag from the back of her chair with her free hand and pushed the seat in with her hip. “You’re going to Sugarloaf, and when you get back, we’re going to sit down and have a long talk. I’m going to Cheryl’s tonight.”

 

“And, what if I don’t want to go?” He scowled, chafing at being told what to do. “What then?”

 

“Then you’re going to have to find yourself a new place to live.” She pulled her arm out of his loose grip and stormed out of the restaurant, leaving him standing alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it’s a cliffhanger, but we’re in the home stretch now, so fear not.
> 
> For those who don’t remember Jughead talking about Sugarloaf in Chapter 2, you’re not alone. Even my good fandom friend was like “How am I supposed to remember something from the beginning of this fic when so much has happened??” So yeah, it was a Chekhov’s gun that I took my sweet time to fire.
> 
> Hope you liked it. I’d love to hear your thoughts if you have the time and energy. I really appreciate the feedback! 
> 
> See you soon, dear readers <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dear readers!
> 
> As promised, I used my short break from the relentless grind of writing academic papers to finish this story. Sorry for the delay, but grad school is a harsh mistress.
> 
> Hopefully, you will find it all worth the wait?
> 
> I have been reading and rereading all of your amazing comments and appreciate every single one of them. I haven't had a chance to respond to all of them yet, but I am determined to get there eventually.
> 
> I need to thank ArsenicPanda for always making herself available to me for last minute beta services, I would not have been able to get this to you without her help.
> 
> Please enjoy the conclusion!

* * *

 

Betty sat perched on the edge of her chair, hanging on every gasp and murmur as Veronica held one side of a pair of overpriced earbuds to her ear, with Cheryl monopolizing the other.

They were holed up in a suite at the St. Regis, courtesy of Veronica’s trust fund. On the other side of the east wall, Toni, posing as a fellowship chairperson, was currently entrapping Sabrina Spellman into outing herself as a blackmailer and seductress.

Betty was too anxious to bring herself to listen to the live feed, though she knew wouldn’t be able to relax until it was over.

“What’s happening right now?” Betty snapped, unable to control her curiosity any longer.

Veronica shushed her with a hand wave, brow furrowing as she pressed the earbud further into one ear while cupping the other one to block out the noise.

Betty’s hand curled instinctively inward, ten faint points of pressure functioning as a distraction from her nerves. She couldn’t break the skin this time, she wouldn’t. Not over somebody like Sabrina Spellman.

After days of preparation and the better part of an hour spent listening in to a hotel suite just on the other side of the wall, Betty could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The lure and setup had taken weeks, but the actual sting operation had come together rather quickly. Toni hadn’t needed as much training as they originally thought, or perhaps Cheryl was a more inspiring teacher than Betty had given her credit for. Either way, the lesson wasn’t lost on Betty: sometimes things can get done much more efficiently when you lean on the people you love.

Cheryl inhaled sharply, and a slow, self-satisfied smile spread across her face. “Yahtzee!”

Betty rose halfway out of her chair, almost afraid to ask. “Is it done? You got it?”

Cheryl let out a _whoop_ , the motion knocking Veronica’s earbud from her ear.

Veronica plopped her feet up on the coffee table in triumph. “Sabrina’s clearly been doing this so long she’s gotten cocky and sloppy. Either way, the witch just hanged herself.”

Betty’s face crumpled in relief as she fell back into her chair. “Thank god.”

As if she’d expected no other outcome, Cheryl pulled a chilled bottle of Moët & Chandon Rosé Brut from her bag and poured out four glasses. “TT was magnificent, wasn’t she?”

Veronica’s amused gaze slid toward Betty’s, and they exchanged a knowing look.

Betty grinned and cleared her throat. “Well, I expected no less. After all, Toni had a wonderful teacher.”

“Damn right, she did.” Cheryl passed around the champagne flutes, haphazardly knocking her rim against each of theirs before downing half of the contents of her glass in one go. “And, she was a very, _very_ dedicated student.”

Veronica choked on her sip of champagne. “Well, she did put in a lot of extra study time.”

“She takes direction better than you’d expect.” Cheryl licked her lips and finished her glass of champagne.

“We get it, you’re banging my friend. You’re not even trying to be subtle about it, Cher.” Betty groaned and left her glass untouched, rising from her chair to open the front door, where a person—presumably Toni—had just completed her third unsuccessful attempt at using the room key card.

“When have I ever claimed to be subtle?” Cheryl poured herself another glass, then tapped the end of the bottle to get out the last few drops.”Trust me, if you were having sex with Toni Topaz, you’d be bragging about it too.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, but I don’t need the details.” Betty turned and fiddled with the door handle.

“I do,” Veronica said, shrugging when Betty grimaced. “What? She’s not my cousin!”

Toni walked through the door, greeting Betty with a high five before making a beeline for Cheryl’s lap. “I was magnificent, right?”

“That’s exactly what I said!” Cheryl crowed as she tucked an arm around Toni’s waist.

Toni leaned forward and kissed Chery as Veronica pressed a champagne flute into Toni’s outstretched hand. “That girl must’ve been working with some powerful voodoo for people not to pick up on how sketch she was. I’m going to assume most of her marks were men because Jesus she was barely trying to be covert about her motives.”

“But you got what we needed?” Betty locked the door and made her way back to the chair she had been sitting on earlier.

“And then some.” Toni nodded as she tasted the champagne. “I put one drink into her and she would not shut the fuck up, blabbing about wanting a tenure-track job, an assistant chair position, she even had the balls to mention getting Jones blacklisted, by name.”

Overwhelmed by the success of their mission, Betty buried her face in her hands and took a moment to process everything, the first feeling of calm she’d experienced in weeks.

Jughead would be home in a week to attend Veronica and Archie’s New Year's Eve engagement party, and Betty really wanted to do something nice for him, the same way he’d always taken care of her. She wasn’t sorry she asked Jughead to leave, but she needed him to know how much she still cared.

A warm hand soothingly rubbed the area between her shoulder blades. “You doing okay?” Veronica whispered into her ear.

“Of course. Yes.” Betty looked around the room, humbled by the support she was receiving. “I just owe all of you so much.”

“Nonsense!” Veronica shouted with a dramatic flourish. “I would’ve done it just for the satisfaction of bringing Spellman down. Did you know, she once flushed my towel down the toilet after cheerleading practice when we were 15? I had to walk stark naked across the gym in front of everybody to my locker—and I was an A-lister! You can’t imagine the shit she pulled with those less popular.”

“You know how much I love revenge schemes, Cousin Betty.” Cheryl’s eyes locked onto Toni’s. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Betty pulled a face. “Ugh, everything you say is like the prelude to a porno.”

Cheryl leaned forward. “Maybe your discomfort entertains me?”

“Well, which one of us is going to have the pleasure of dropping the axe on her?” Toni asked, mischief lighting up her features. “I would pay cash money to see her expression one she’s busted.”

“Veronica,” Betty announced, with a definitive nod. “Her parents are donors, the chancellor will pay attention to what she has to say.”

“Well, we now have two reasons to drink this week.” Cheryl produced another chilled bottle of champagne, seemingly out of nowhere, and popped the cork with her thumb. “To Veronica putting a ring on a hot redhead and to the rousing success of our honeypot operation. Tits out for the Karma Crew!”

“Tits out!” They all repeated before clinking their glasses together.

 

* * *

 

 

Betty already was riding high on emotions by the time she got back to the apartment, but the stark absence of sound as she pushed open the front door made her pulse begin to race. She quickly shut the door behind her and leaned against it, squeezing her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry.

She had done something good today for Jughead. Regardless of what ended up happening between them, she would never regret that.

“I’m okay,” she whispered to herself a few times in a row, just to be safe. “Everything is going to be fine.” The words rang hollow in her ears, but she was determined to will herself out of this funk.

Betty glanced forlornly at the corner of the living room where Jughead’s clothes once were gathered. She knew she was going to miss him when he was gone, but she hadn’t realized it was going to feel like she was missing a part of herself as well.

There were low times over the last few weeks, where Betty almost regretted telling Jughead to leave, but she had to prove to him—and to herself—that she would be fine on her own. She was okay with accepting his support, but she would not be treated as an obligation. A relationship didn’t always have to be balanced, but it had to be fair, and giving up a dream opportunity without even discussing it with her was anything but.

Their partnership had to be honest and without manipulation, or she may as well still be living at home with her mother.

Betty pulled on one of the flannel shirts Jughead left behind and curled up onto the couch. Between work and executing the plan to bring Sabrina down, she hadn’t been taking great care of herself. Despite being exhausted all of the time, she could barely sleep, and her appetite had been weak. If this was what three weeks without him felt like, she didn’t want to imagine what his lifetime absence could bring. Things were messy the way they left them, but she still had hope.

Betty’s fingers brushed over the buttons of her television remote for a moment, before falling slack as images of _Mindhunter_ floated through her head.

 

* * *

 

 

A loud pounding on the front door pulled Betty from her dreams. She glanced at the clock: 5:00 PM.

“Shit!” She cursed quietly and scrambled for the door to open it, her balance off kilter from dizziness.

“Betty! I was starting to get worried.” Polly, wearing her Sunday best, had one hand tightly wound around J.J.’s wrist and the other balled up, hovering in the air.

“I’m so sorry! I dozed off on the couch without meaning to, and just...I guess time got away from me.” Betty combed her fingers through her hair, embarrassed at her bedraggled state. On a good day, she looked like a slob next to her sister, and this was definitely not a good day.

“Auntie Betty!” J.J. squealed, dropping his mother's hand to cling to Betty’s waist with both arms.

“Look how big you’ve gotten, pumpkin!” She lifted the boy into her arms and pressed a kiss against the ginger strands curling at his temple, which had grown longer since the last time she’d seen him. “Why don’t you guys come in and have a seat, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Juggie Fruit Loops?” J.J. widened his eyes optimistically.

“I don’t know about that, buddy. You’re going to have to ask your mommy for permission.” Betty buried her nose into her nephew’s cheek and inhaled his sweet scent. The dull ache of his absence had finally faded, but the space he once occupied would always be left as an empty reminder.

“Nice try. You know you’re not getting any more sugar today, you rascal.” Polly pulled her coat off and dropped it onto the kitchen chair along with her bag. “Mom and I have been trying to limit his sugar intake. According to the pediatrician, J.J. is extra sensitive to its effects. Weird, right?”

“That’s what I tried to tell Jug a million times, but did he listen?” Betty carried J.J. to the couch, deposited him onto a pillow, and tickled his belly. “No. He would sneak this tiny person candy every single day.”

The conversation with her sister was flowing more easily than she expected, given the last time they’d seen each other in person was the day after Polly returned from the wild. They’d exchanged a few FaceTime calls for J.J. over the last few weeks, usually brokered by their mother, but this was the first time they were speaking face-to-face.  

Polly assessed Betty carefully as if checking a teacup for hairline cracks. “Jughead strikes me as the kind of guy who might be a soft touch when it comes to food.”

“He was.” Betty swallowed and slowly removed the flannel, folding it somberly and placing it on the arm of the sofa, self-conscious of her sister’s stare.

“You’re talking about Jughead like he’s dead.” Polly crossed her arms over her chest. “He is coming back in a week.”

“Juggie not here?” J.J. perked up at the sound of Jughead’s name.

Betty crouched down next to her nephew. “Juggie is away at a school thing. You’ll see him again very soon,” she told him, with a level of conviction she wished she actually had. “But, he wanted me to give this to you, from him.” She leaned forward and blew a raspberry on the side of J.J’s neck.

J.J. giggled at the joke. “Juggie silly.”

“So silly.” Betty gently tapped her forehead against his.

Polly opened up her handbag, selected a bag of goldfish, and brought it over to the couch. “This should keep him occupied while we talk for a bit.”

“Can’t I get you a—”

Betty rose to stand, but Polly pinned her with a stare. “We need to talk, Betty.”

“Alright.” Betty took the spot next to J.J on the sofa, her fingers restlessly playing with the fringe on one of the throw pillows. “This sounds important.”

“It is.” Polly perched on the edge of the coffee table across from Betty, hands twisting nervously in her lap. “I’ve re-enrolled in school.”

“What?” Betty pressed a hand to her heart. “From your expression, I thought you were going to tell me you were sick or something. This is amazing news!”

Like a true Cooper woman, Polly repressed any feelings of pride and shook off the praise. “I dropped out of college with one semester left, which is just...I can’t afford to be stupid anymore about my life.” She glanced tenderly at her son. “He was happy with you, and it—it kills me that I wasn’t the one to give him that.”

“You still can.”

Polly’s hands slowly unfurled under Betty’s touch. “I hope so.”

“I _know_ so, Pol.” Betty squeezed her sister’s hands to punctuate the thought.

“I just wanted you to know that I’m serious about getting things right this time. It wasn’t fair for me to upend your life the way I did, and I’m aware you grew to love J.J. as—as more than a nephew, so I thought I owed you the peace of mind of knowing I’m taking the steps to make things better for him.”

“I believe in you, Polly. You can make the life you want.”

Polly shot Betty a sidelong look. “You can too, you know? I don’t know what happened with,” she glanced nervously at her son, then back at Betty, “ _you-know-who,_ but I know you can fix it.”

“I kicked him out.” Betty shook her head, dejectedly. “He was literally willing to throw his entire career to the side just to take care of me, and I sent him away for it.”

Polly’s eyebrows bunched together in confusion. “Why do you need to be taken care of?”

“I don’t think I do.” Betty shrugged.

“But he does?” Polly’s eyes widened with understanding. “Ah, the family curse.”

“The gift that keeps on giving.”

Polly pursed her lips into an unimpressed line. “You’ve lived your whole life with this _thing_ without Jughead holding your hand, what gave him the idea it was his job to take over its management?”

“That’s what I said.” Betty bit her bottom lip and stared pensively at the grain of the wooden floor. There was a certain level of vindication she felt having Polly reflect her thoughts, though, with the way she missed him, it felt like more of a Pyrrhic victory. “But, maybe I want him to hold my hand? It’s just, there’s a difference between wanting it and needing it, and I’m not sure where the line is.”

“You wouldn’t cross it.” Polly shook her head.

Betty laughed in disbelief. “You don’t know that.”

“Betty, you’ve been my hero since you saved us from dad, and now you’re also the city’s. More than anybody, I know this illness we have sometimes makes it hard to see things clearly, but, hey, chin up. On your worst day, you still never ran off and joined a cult.”

“Thanks.” A tear rolled down Betty’s cheek, and she wiped it with the back of her hand. “I’ve just been so emotional since he’s been gone like all my nerve endings have been rubbed raw. I don’t even feel like myself.”

“Are you PMSing?” Polly asked, in a sympathetic tone. “Not to sound like mom, but hormones can make you a bit crazy.”

Betty wondered if it could be the reason, but as she tried to recall the last time she got her period, she began to lose track of the days. Betty fell back in her seat and ran her fingers through her still-messy hair, as a well of panic bubbled in the pit of her stomach. “Shit.”

“Shit,” J.J. echoed, followed by a maniacal giggle.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few days flew by in a blur as Betty tried to distract herself from the possibility that she might be pregnant. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know, but she knew she would be seeing Jughead soon, and she didn’t want something like that hanging over them when they reunited. If they were going to make things work, it would have to be independent of anything else.

A baby would only complicate things.

She knew this.

She _knew_ this.

And yet.

Betty couldn’t help the stray thoughts that passed through her head, visions of them going to art classes and playgrounds, this time with their own baby, a child with her eyes and his mop of black hair.

She had come to terms with the loss of J.J., content to exist on the fringes of his life now that he was safe and happy with his mother, but his presence in her world had cracked open a yearning she never realized she’d had.

Abstractly, she always assumed she’d have kids, but now, after raising her nephew for the better part of a year, she knew exactly how a child would fit into her life, and she craved that.

Betty didn’t know if Jughead even still wanted to be with her, much less have a baby with her. The phone ban at his writing retreat meant a communication blackout for the entire month of December, so nobody had heard from him in weeks. Any reminder of their last, fraught encounter made her stomach turn, and she had no idea what she would be walking into at the party tonight.

Betty studied herself in the full-length mirror in Veronica’s bedroom, hands brushing over the fabric of her nude, fitted, shimmery dress. She didn’t think she looked any different to an outsider, but now that she had a chance to catalog her body, she had to admit the swell of her breasts may have grown the last few months. It could be all in her mind, but her lack of menstruation was pretty damning evidence to the contrary.

After Polly left her house the other day, Betty had finally gotten up the nerve to look at a calendar and realized she hadn’t gotten her period since before her hospitalization. She was on the birth control pill at the time, but the doctors had given her several rounds of antibiotics to treat her wound, and that could’ve nullified the pill’s effect. They'd had very memorable, very unprotected sex a week later.

“You’re late!” A voice called out from the doorway.

Veronica’s reflection appeared behind Betty in the mirror. She was wearing a dramatic, satin fishtail gown in an eggplant hue and a pair of purple garnet chandelier earrings to match. Betty wondered how her best friend was always so put together when Betty could barely match her bra and panties on most days.

“Sorry. I’m a bit nervous.” Betty tucked a loose piece of hair that had fallen from her bun behind her ear.

Veronica face softened, and she crossed to stand next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “My girl is a vision in écru. Like, Grace Kelly. James Ellroy won’t know what hit him.”

Betty took in her finished look and scrunched her nose. “What if he hates me?”

If she were in a better mood, the offended look on Veronica’s face would have sent her into a fit of laughter. “ _Hate_ you? You’re amazing! Jughead Jones is currently driving through a snowstorm to get here. That takes a certain level of dedication...of which you are quite worthy.”

“He’s only coming for Archie.” Betty picked at a stray thread on her dress.

Veronica slapped her hand away and cocked an eyebrow. “You can't really believe that.”

Her head dropped onto Veronica’s shoulder, and she gave herself permission to feel momentarily insecure. “It’s going to be fine, right?”

Veronica scoffed and brushed their shoulders together. “You’ll probably get married before I do.”

“That’s impossible. You guys couldn’t get hitched faster if it were an arranged marriage.” Betty grabbed the beaded clutch on the side table. “What am I going to say to him, Veronica? Things were so crazy the way we left them.”

Veronica pressed a finger to her lips in contemplation. “Hmm, maybe that means the only way back is to do something a little crazy?”

“That's not vague or anything.” Betty whimpered and lifted her head. “I can’t just vomit out everything I’m thinking and feeling. What if I scare him off?”

“Or what if you take a leap of faith and he jumps right along with you?” The force of Veronica’s confidence in Jughead's devotion cut Betty to the quick.

 

* * *

 

 

It was past 11:30 PM and Betty was stuck dancing her third dance in a row with Reggie Mantle. She’d been relentlessly checking the door since nine, but Jughead still hadn’t arrived, and she was beginning to worry. According to Veronica, he was still planning on attending the party, but the inclement weather had clogged the main highway arteries to Manhattan, forcing him to drive the back roads.

Veronica and Archie were busy making the social rounds, Cheryl and Toni had long disappeared to a dark corner of the room, and Midge and Kevin were engaged in some form of demented romantic competition over one of Archie’s beefy frat brothers, leaving Betty alone to fend off Reggie’s clumsy advances.

Reggie’s last 7&7 had clearly made him bolder, and his hand was currently creeping toward her ass for the nth time that night.

She tugged his arm back up to her waist and shot him an irritated look. “Your hand slipped. Again.”

“Did it?” He didn’t look a bit sorry.

“ _Reggie_.”

“ _Cooper_ ,” he sang back to her, swaying for a moment before regaining his balance by grabbing her shoulders. His eyes dropped to her cleavage, and he began to leer openly at it. “Hey, did your boobs get bigger?”

Betty slapped his hands away and grabbed his elbow roughly. “Alright, that’s enough. You need to sober up. Let’s get some coffee in you.”

Reggie leaned sideways toward her, just missing her ear. “How’d ya like a little coffee in you?”

“What?” Betty shook her head, confused.

“What?” Reggie’s face creased in thought, then his attention was pulled elsewhere. “Hey, is Midge around?” He staggered away from Betty without another word, and for that, she counted her blessings.

She was standing alone now, in the middle of the dance floor, restless and conspicuous, unsure of what to do next….until Jughead appeared at the edge of the room.

He was wearing a rumpled dinner jacket, wet in patches, likely from the snow. His suspenders dangled haphazardly at his waist as though he’d gotten dressed in a rush. Despite his disheveled appearance, he was still the best sight she’d laid eyes on all month.

His eyes squinted as they took a deliberate tour of the crowd, gaze slowly ping-ponging from one guest to the next, before settling with a frustrated scowl at his feet.

Betty watched him in earnest, not sure if she was ready to be noticed. The band was playing a Gipsy Kings ballad in the background, the music reduced to muffled tones along with everything else the longer she stared at him. In her peripheral vision, the guests continued to samba around her, their movements lagging as though they were dancing underwater. Betty held her breath and counted, her own legs frozen in place.

It took 13 seconds for Jughead to look up again, but when he did, his gaze was aimed directly at her as if he’d always known exactly where she was.

He took one step toward her and then paused, as if he wasn’t sure if he’d be welcome, then steeled his posture and walked purposefully across the room, hands balled into fists that jerked back and forth with the force of his gait.

Betty exhaled raggedly, realizing she hadn’t breathed at all since he’d first noticed her standing there.

He slowed to stand in front of her and opened his mouth to speak, but then promptly closed it and shook his head, like he’d had a change of heart.

“Hi, Jughead.” Betty’s voice was so faint she wondered if he’d even heard her.

“Betty,” he spoke in a low tone, sounding quite grave, but then one corner of his mouth picked up into a lopsided grin, instantly transforming his face to something more familiar. “Of all the parties, in all the overpriced penthouses, in all of Manhattan, she walks into my best friend’s.”

Betty’s shoulders relaxed along with her nerves. “I think that’s my line.”

“Fair enough.”

They each took a moment to drink in the other’s presence and catalog any changes that may have occurred during their month apart. He looked exactly the same—if a little more tired—which somehow surprised Betty.

His eyes darted toward the hallway that led to the apartment bedrooms. “Is there somewhere quiet we can talk—alone?”

“Come on.” She nodded and they silently walked toward the nearest guest bedroom, which was currently being used to store coats.

Betty shut the door behind them and flipped the lock, then pushed past the overwhelming feeling of dread she was experiencing and turned to face him.

“Hi, again.” Jughead was fidgeting, weight shifting from one leg to the other as one hand reached back to scratch the base of his neck.

“Hi.” Betty cleared her throat and desperately grasped at the first thing she could think of to say. “So, the storm was really kicking up out there, huh? I’m glad you were able to make the drive. The station said we might even get 16 inches by tomorrow morning.”

He shot her a fond but melancholic smile. “Don’t tell me we’ve been reduced to talking about the weather again.”

She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead and closed her eyes to block out her embarrassment. “No, we are well beyond that.”

“Good.” He nodded aimlessly at nothing in particular. “You look—well, I mean, obviously you’re always gorgeous, but you look particularly beautiful tonight.”

“Oh.” Betty’s voice stumbled on her response, not expecting to receive such a bold complement. “You also look very...how was your retreat, Jughead? Was it productive? Did you finish your book?”

“I did, actually. I guess I was inspired.”

“That’s—I’m happy for you. That’s great.”

“Yeah, great. So, how about you? How has work been?”

“Oh, I’ve been busy. Lots of new stories, spending too much time at the…” her words trailed off, and she wondered what the fuck they were doing. This was worse than talking about the weather. Whatever she thought she was gearing up to, she doubted she would ever get there this way. Her hands dug into her hair, knocking loose the carefully coiffed style, and she tittered nervously at her own twitchiness. “Why is this so weird?”

“Betty?” He looked vaguely concerned for her, but also for himself. “Are you—?”

Maybe Veronica was right, a leap of faith might be the only way to get them to an honest place?

Had to be better than whatever this was.

“I’ve been miserable without you,” she blurted out, and covered her face with her hands, a hot flush flaring across her skin. “Shit. I know I should’ve eased you into that, but I’ve been practically tying myself in knots all week, wondering what I could possibly say to you when you got back to make things right with us. Because, I know you must hate me—”

“Wait—what?” Jughead pulled her hands from her face, his expression a complicated jumble of shock and confusion. “You think I hate you?”

“I kicked you out.”

“Yeah, and I deserved it. I thought—I was so sure that you hated _me_.” He stared at her with a look of concentration, like a puzzled to be solved.

She took a tentative step toward him. “I could _never_ hate you, Juggie!”

He echoed the move. “I could never hate you either, Betty.”

They gazed at each other for a beat, both in disbelief.

Betty took a minute, allowing her mind to play catch-up. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but the tightly-wound coil of anxiety inside of her began to loosen. “Well, if neither of us hates each other...what does that mean?”

“I think—I think it means...” Jughead wrapped an arm around her waist and hugged her body against his, holding her so tightly she thought she thought she might run out of air, then hesitantly pressed his lips to hers, going slowly enough to give her enough time to pull away.

Betty sighed against his lips and deepened the kiss, one hand cradling the side of his face as the other knocked the hat from his head so she could feel his hair beneath her fingers again. His mouth moved against hers, cautiously at first but soon matching her rhythm, as if no time had passed since their last kiss. Betty forced herself to pull away, but placed a hand to his chest to keep him close. “Wait—does this mean we’re okay?”

“God, I fucking hope so.” He surged forward and left a scattered pattern of kisses all over her face. “Because the idea of not coming home to you every night, not watching thrillers while eating Thai food out of the carton on that stupid couch with too many goddamn pillows—well, that’s just a nonstarter for me.”

“I like those pillows.”

“They’re the literal worst.” He kissed the underside of her jaw affectionately and pressed his nose into her neck. “I’m sorry I made decisions without consulting you, baby. I will never do something that careless again. Jesus, I was so sure I messed everything up with you for good.”

Her fingers twisted in his shirt, and she hauled him closer. “We both messed up. I guess I just—I don’t want to be another obligation to you. You should be having fun with me, not spending all your time managing my mental state.”

“I’m not in this relationship just to have a ‘fun’ time, Betty.” He pinched the skin between his eyes as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Look, I haven’t had much I’ve enjoyed in my life, and this—you—are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, flaws included. In my experience, good moments usually mean that a shitstorm is just around the corner. Nothing has ever come easily to me, because maybe I’m not perfect either? So, I suppose after the rough patch you had, I was just holding on a little too tightly because I didn’t want this to end?”

Betty jerked his lapel to force his attention to her. “Why would you think this would end?”

Jughead sputtered out a dry laugh. “Why wouldn’t it? Everything else does.”

“This,” she gestured between them, “is for keeps. Your parents may have let you down, but you and I—we are a family now, at least that’s how I feel about you.”

He tipped his head up, with an expression so full of wonder it almost broke her heart to look at him. “You think I’m family?”

Betty tenderly stroked the side of his face. “Of course I do.”

Jughead swallowed hard and his burden appeared to visibly lift. “I feel that way, too.”

“Good,” she tugged his earlobe, “because this month was a total nightmare for me without you.”

“I know I shouldn’t be glad about that, but part of me is relieved you were so sad when I was gone.” Jughead slowly traced the neckline of her dress with one fingertip. “JB said you would miss me...I certainly missed you.”

Betty rolled her eyes at him. “You couldn’t even get through that apology without hitting on me.”

“Have you seen you, tonight? In that dress?” He took a step back and looked her over in the most lurid way possible. “Can we go home, now?”

“You just got here,” she said, feeling both bemused and exasperated with him. “Veronica will kill us.”

“We need to be alone, we have big stuff to talk about. Also, I plan to do some very sexy groveling, if that influences your decision in any way.”

Her resistance to his charms was already thin, to begin with, but the impish way he was batting his eyelashes at her was really making it difficult to say no. “Veronica will still straight up murder us if we leave before the ball drops.”

“But, Betty.” He pouted, and the slow drag of his eyes up her body felt like a caress. “Sexy groveling.”

Betty laughed and twisted his hair playfully around her fingers. “You’ve gone a full month without touching me, you can make it 15 more minutes.”

“Are you sure about that? I’m not so sure.” His hand teased the hem of her skirt, subtly attempting to inch its way under the lace without her noticing. “Maybe, I could just stick one—"

“Jughead!” She hissed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, and brought his hands back to the safety of her hips, then glanced at the digital clock on the dresser. “We can just stand here silently until midnight.”

“Good. Let’s do that.” As hard as Betty tried to quell her desire, the heat of his stare was causing her body temperature to rise. “Jug, come on.”

“What?” His head lolled to the side, a confident smirk on his face. “I’m not doing anything.”

Betty checked the clock—not even a minute had elapsed—then startled as soon as she turned back and noticed he was now staring at her the way a cartoon character leers at a Sunday roast.

Jughead’s hands tightened against her waist, thumbs caressing the jut of her hip bones as he pressed his body closer to hers. “Did you lock the door?”

“Jug, we can’t—”

“Did you?”

Betty huffed out a laugh. “Yes.”

His eyes dropped to her lips as he licked his own. “Betty, if you don’t want me to fuck you on that pile of strangers’ coats, you should probably say something really quickly. Because it’s happening.”

“We really shouldn’t,” she said, protesting weakly, while incongruously pulling him toward her by his suspender straps.

Jughead couldn’t stop the smug look of achievement from shading his expression. “No, we really shouldn’t, but we’re definitely gonna.”

Betty squealed as she felt her back connect with the mountain of coats piled on top the guest bed, forcing her to squirm to keep her balance. He casually peeled his jacket from his frame as her hands grappled for purchase on the mattress to keep from sliding off. “As soon as that clock strikes midnight, people are going to be rushing through that door, so we’d better make it quick.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry too much about that.” Jughead yanked her panties down her legs with one hand and tucked them in his discarded jacket pocket before settling between her thighs. “We haven’t had sex in a month, so 15 minutes would be an achievement for me at this point.”

“Consider my expectations managed.” Betty pulled down his trouser zipper, then scooted back to give him more room, her bare ass brushing against a fox fur stole with the motion. “Oh god, I think I just sat on an animal.” Jughead snorted at her horrified expression. “You’re such an agent of chaos. I think this is the turn on for you.”

“No. You’re the turn on, Betty.” Jughead looked down at her through hooded eyes, like she was something precious and rare. “Though I won’t lie, the idea of accidentally getting cum on some rich fuck’s $8,000 fur coat is certainly a side-benefit.”

Just as Jughead slipped his hand into his trousers, a loud banging sounded on the door, and Betty sighed her disappointment.

“Maybe, if we’re really quiet they’ll just go away?” Jughead groaned, as his head collapsed between her breasts.

“The entire party saw the two of you disappear into that room, Elizabeth Cooper!” Veronica’s voice was shrill on the other side of the door.

Betty’s chest vibrated with the sound of Jughead’s laughter, and she ran her fingers through his hair one last time, happy because she still could. “Okay, Casanova. I think we’re busted.”

“I assume the locked door means things are going well, which is fabulous, but it’s 12 minutes to midnight and I will not have you defiling my guests’ coats because you can’t keep it in your pants!” Veronica screamed, punctuating her point with a loud kick to the doorframe. “Zip it up, come outside, and toast the goddamn new year with me like civilized adults. Comprendas?”

Betty felt kind of guilty for abandoning the party, but the warm and solid line of Jughead’s body on top of hers made it tempting to try and hide away. She had responsibilities though, and she couldn’t let her selfish desires pull her from them.

“Comprendo!” Betty answered, blushing furiously as she called back to her friend.

Jughead looked up at Betty as he toyed with the row of beads along her neckline. “To be continued…” he said, sealing the promise with a kiss.

They quickly re-dressed, and Jughead led her out to the main room, where Veronica and Archie were holding court.

 

* * *

 

“ _I tried to stop her_ ,” Archie mouthed to them, with a pained expression on his face, following it up by pointing to his fiancée and miming a gesture Betty interpreted to mean ‘cockblock.’

Jughead shrugged graciously and wrapped an arm around Betty’s waist, his hand splayed out possessively across her hip.

A passing waitress pushed two glasses of champagne into their hands, and they were shuffled toward the center of the room nearer to the happy couple.

“This has been the best year of my entire life and I just know once I marry this darling man it’s only going to get better.” Veronica laid a hand on the lapel of Archie’s dinner jacket and turned to address the crowd. “Here’s to all of you, our friends, for honoring us with your presence tonight. May each of you find your better halves in the new year, if you haven’t already. Salúd!”

All of the guests toasted their glasses and took a celebratory sip, then turned to watch the giant plasma screens that adorned every wall, as the countdown clock ticked off the last two minutes before midnight.

Betty nuzzled her face into the crook of Jughead neck, grateful that she wouldn’t have to start the new year without him. “Next year is going to be better,” she said, definitively, more to herself than to him.

He pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. “I know we still have a lot to work out, and I can’t tell you how much I regret the way I went behind your back with the writing retreat, but I love you, Betty.”

“I love you too,” she whispered, lost in the way the nearby twinkling lights reflected off his irises, alternating their color from blue to black.

“Happy new year, baby.” Jughead lifted his hand off her waist and held the side of her face, kissing her deeply, and the moment hung suspended in the air like a bubble—perfect and beautiful.

The countdown ticked down to zero, and a cheer erupted from the crowd of guests around them, noisemakers going off and confetti flying as the band played a stripped-down version of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ on the electric guitar.

Their mouths parted and Betty brightened, then leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Take me home.”

 

* * *

 

Betty flicked the lights on, tossed her coat on the nearest chair, and held the front door ajar so Jughead could use both hands to wheel his suitcase into the foyer.

“Home sweet home.” He looked at her through the corner of his eye as she shut and locked the door behind them.

“It is now.” Betty pulled his hat from his head and helped him out of his coat and dinner jacket, not wanting to wait a second more to be with him in the way she’d been fantasizing about all month. Hours ago, she wasn’t even positive she would ever have this again, but now he was here and this was officially permanent, and she felt that called for some kind of celebration.

“Why is it like a sauna in the apartment?” He looked around the room as if there would be some visual explanation for it.

Betty gestured toward the baseboards with an apologetic shrug. “The landlord controls the radiant heat in the winter. This is one of those old buildings where your choices are tundra or Sahara and nothing in between.”

“So, what you’re saying is, not only was the A/C broken in this unit all summer but now the heater is, too?” He laughed and shook his head. “We need to move or we’ll die of dehydration here one day.”

“Maybe we do need to move.” She fanned herself with her hand, but it only seemed to move the hot air around. “It is kind of brutal.”

Jughead reached toward her and seductively unwrapped the red scarf from Betty’s neck, then looked at the coiled yarn in his hands with curiosity. “This is giving me naughty ideas for the future.”

She snatched the fabric from his grasp and held it to her chest. “My Nana knitted this for me, you pervert!”

He pressed a shocked hand to his chest, “You don’t want me to tie you up in Nana’s sex scarf?” and followed her into the kitchen. “Come on, Betts, she knew exactly what she was doing when she chose to knit in harlot red, the old bird.”

Betty threw the scarf on the table with a disgusted grunt and reached for the bottom of Jughead’s shirt, pulling the tails from his trouser waistband.

Jughead watched with amusement as she unbuttoned his dress shirt. “Woah woah woah, are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?”

“Would you like me to seduce you?” Preoccupied with getting him undressed, she volleyed back the corresponding movie dialogue without even bothering to look up.

“As a matter of fact…” Jughead grabbed her around the torso and she let out a noise of surprise, then he lifted her into the air, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist in order not to topple. “I’d like that very much.”

He carried her toward the couch as he kissed her, then paused, staring down at her nine decorative throw pillows disappointingly. “I even missed these stupid things.”

Betty squirmed out of his arms and walked over to the couch.

“Juggie,” she said, certain to secure his eye contact first, “I want you to know that you’re the thing I love most in this apartment, and if these gorgeous, couture throw pillows that Veronica and I purchased at ABC Carpet and Home during their annual Christmas sale make you sick, then they make me sick as well...even if they are hand-embroidered with Austrian crystal beads.”

“Betty, no!” He shouted, just as she’d swept the entire collection onto the floor, scattering them like gems in the warm glow of the recessed lighting. “Are you crazy?”

“You’re worth it,” she said, and carefully slid her dress to the floor on top of one of them, relieved to be wearing fewer clothes in the heat.

Jughead’s gaze dropped to the pillows and then back up to her half-nude form. “I’m going to thank you so hard you won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow. Lie down.”

Betty jokingly saluted him, kicked off her undergarments, and eased herself back onto the sofa until she was lying perfectly flat.

Jughead’s eyes darkened as they traveled the length of her body, slowly devouring the view. “Fuck, Betty.”

Lying naked before Jughead, with him still fully dressed, triggered a streak of exhibitionism in Betty she hadn’t known she possessed. She raised her arms over her head and stretched wantonly, twisting her body in a way she knew he’d find alluring, all while watching him watch her.

He chuckled at her antics. “Hmm, the guy who gets to wake up to this every day sure is lucky, huh?”

“He can be lucky if he wants.” She pulled her knees up and let her thighs fall teasingly open, just enough to tempt him closer.

Jughead released an inarticulate sound, but he remained rooted to his spot. “Maybe he’d just like to watch for now?”

“I can do that.” Betty licked two of her fingers and slipped her hand between her legs.  She began to rub slow circles on her core, releasing breathy noises as she worked herself up, all without breaking eye contact.

“Fucking hell, you’re sexy,” he rasped out, now palming his erection roughly through his pants. “Get yourself to the edge but don’t cum.”

Betty clucked her tongue. “So bossy.”

“You love it.”

She hummed in agreement, then thrust her fingers inside of her and rocked into her hand, back arching off the couch with the movement.

He rubbed a hand over his face and whimpered. “This is turning into a Penthouse Forum letter scenario. You have no idea how hard I am right now.”

As Betty’s hand worked faster, she settled the other one on her breast. She closed her eyes and pinched her left nipple, tugging on it until she lost feeling, then quickly released it to let the blood rush back in. “Shit,” she gasped.

Jughead let out a choking sound and her eyes flew open, just as he was wrenching her hand out from between her legs.

“My turn,” he rasped into her ear, and then he was on her, leaving sloppy, wet kisses from her sternum to her navel, spreading her thighs wider with his hands, and dropping his face into her lap. His mouth was all over her, searing hot tongue licking into her like he was starving.

Betty looked down and brushed his sweaty hair from his forehead. The level of determination and intensity he brought to everything he did never failed to impress her, and when she was the center of his focus, it was like no other feeling in the world. His eyes flicked up to look at her, the corners of them crinkling with mirth as he sucked her closer to completion. Betty’s face contorted and her legs began to shake, but Jughead patiently continued his task, a self-satisfied tilt to his lips as she tumbled over the edge with a silent scream.

“Goddamn, I missed that.” He settled his hips between her thighs and kissed his way back up her body, pausing for a moment to suck a bruise in the center of her sternum.

Betty grabbed his face and kissed him thoroughly. “That was...damn.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Good to know how much I was missed.”

Her fingertips traced the edge of his jaw, catching on a dusting of stubble from what she imagined was a dry roadside shave job somewhere on the journey back into the city. “I’m so relieved you’re home. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”

Jughead kissed her, cutting off her line of thought. “I was always coming back, and I always will. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Betty Cooper. I’m like that half-torn dollar no business will accept, the one that sits moldering in your wallet for ages in your futile effort to pass it off to somebody else.”

“I do _not_ want to pass you off to somebody else!” She said, laughing through her words. “Never.”

“Never?” His face grew thoughtful, lips tight with an emotion she couldn’t place.

“Never ever,” she assured him, kissing the top of his nose. “I’m afraid you’re rather stuck with me.”

A heavy moment passed between them, and she could nearly hear the casters in his brain click into place. He swallowed audibly and nodded his head. “I’m okay with that.”

“Good. Now that that’s settled...” She reached down and grabbed his cock, and began to slowly press it inside of her.

A faint moan escaped him as he bottomed out, and she swallowed the sound, their lips brushing against each other with each slow rock of his hips.

Jughead reverentially kissed the top of Betty’s shoulder, and she basked in his attention. He made her feel cherished, something she’d never experienced before she’d met him.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, and he turned to capture her lips.

“I love you, too.” He thrust up into her hard, and she tightened her legs around his waist. “God you feel so good...wet.”

He was still mostly dressed, and the drag of his shirt against her bare skin made her sensitive everywhere.

Betty bucked her hips against his, a subtle hint to increase the pace. “I want to feel you.”

His kiss lingering on her mouth, he dragged the edge of his teeth down the side of her jaw, the delicate brush of his lips a plush counterpoint to the sharp snap of his hips as he rocked into her.

The springs of the couch squeaked noisily with each stroke, and her fingers twisted in his damp hair for stability. His earlier promise was absolutely right, there was no way she would be walking much tomorrow after this.

His hand was slippery between them, fingers sliding over her core in order to get her off. They only hit their target intermittently as she was impossibly wet, but she was so turned on she didn’t need much more to push her over the edge.

“Yeah...like that. Right there.” She fisted the sides of his trousers and tugged him toward her. He swore against her cheek as her vision started to fuzz along the edges. “I’m—I’m going to—Jug!” Betty’s second orgasm swept through her like a tremor.

Two more rough strokes and Jughead followed her with a loud groan, pulsing inside of her for longer than usual before collapsing.

They lay there in silence until their heartbeats returned to normal, she was too well-laid to be bothered by the crushing weight on top of her.

After a few minutes, Jughead finally picked up his head and they both burst out laughing, the way children do after getting away with something naughty.

“I’m going to put every one of those pillows back on this couch and then toss them away again if this is how you repay me for it.” She was only half-joking.

He dramatically exhaled. “One pillow.”

“Seven?” She asked, feeling a bit cheeky.

Her suggestion was greeted with a deadpan glare. “Two, and only because you’re so damned cute.”

Betty shuffled closer to him, hoping she could press an advantage with him feeling so loose post-coital. “Five?”

“Three,” he said, with finality. “I can handle three.”

“Three.” She nodded and sealed the deal with a kiss.

He cautiously pulled out of her, stripped his drenched shirt off, and curved his body around hers. “I’m going to spend a lot of time job hunting on this couch. I can’t have those pillows taunting me with their Austrian perfection while I wallow in stained sweatpants and a shirt with the collar stretched out.”

“Oh my god!” Betty flipped over onto his chest so quickly she almost knocked them both off the couch. “I forgot to tell you. Cheryl, Toni, Veronica, and I—we nailed Sabrina Spellman!”

“Everyone has nailed Sabrina Spellman,” he said, punctuating the joke with a rimshot sound.

Betty lightly slapped his arm. “No, Juggie, we _nailed_ her. Set up an undercover honeypot sting and she fell right into our trap.”

“You what?” Jughead abruptly sat up, bringing Betty with him. “I’m sorry—what?”

Betty felt stupidly shy about providing the details. She’d organized this whole thing with Veronica without even running it past Jughead for approval. “We, um...recorded her trying to solicit Toni into having you blacklisted from the department and attempting to fuck her way into a tenure-track job. Veronica had a meeting with the chancellor of your university a few days ago and got it sorted.”

Jughead stared at her, slack-jawed.

Betty began to panic. What if he hadn’t wanted her help? Was this just as shady as him turning down a writing retreat behind her back? She felt like a hypocrite now. “Jug, I’m so—”

He stopped her rambling with a finger to her lips. “Betty, I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, but tell me, so I can keep it up. I can’t believe you did all of that for me.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“I know. I know you would.” Jughead sighed and pressed his forehead to hers.

He didn’t seem to be angry, so Betty allowed herself to incrementally relax. “You’re not mad I went behind your back?”

“No. I mean, I would never have let you do it if I’d known, but I’m so glad you did.” He shook his head, an impressed look on his face. “She’s really gone?”

Betty beamed, thinking of the vivid description Veronica told of her meeting with the chancellor, and how angry he had gotten. “You’ll have to turn over a lot of rocks to find that serpent again.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a heartfelt kiss on the cheek. “I mean, this isn’t carte blanche to keep big secrets from me for the rest of our lives together, but you know, maybe just this one time.”

Betty lifted a pillow off the floor and hugged it protectively to her chest. There was another secret she had put in a box on a high shelf, but she knew she couldn’t wait any longer to address it, especially in light of what he’d just said. “There might be—I actually have one more thing to tell you. I don’t know if it’s anything for sure or I’m just making myself crazy, but....”

He sat up straighter and reached for her hand as if he knew he should be shoring up for something big. “You can tell me anything.”

She nodded and absently traced the swirling pattern of beads studded across the throw pillow lying in her lap, using the slide of smooth glass under her fingers to momentarily distract her from the churning in her gut. This was it, the one thing that could change everything for them, for better or worse. “I’m, um, I haven’t gotten my period in a while.”

Jughead’s body grew still and his hand tightened around hers. “Okay. Okay, what’s ‘a while’?”

She braved a look at him; he appeared far more collected than she felt, and a small part of her found this annoying. “Since before my accident. I think that was nine weeks ago? Maybe longer?”

It took Jughead such a long time to form his next words that Betty worried he’d had a stroke.

“We’re having a baby?” He asked, in the smallest voice imaginable.

Betty blinked at him, surprised by the glow of joy beginning to illuminate his features. “Do you even really want a baby?”

He narrowed his gaze at her like he couldn’t quite understand what she was asking him. “With you? Hell yeah, of course, I do.” His tone quickly gentled. “I mean, only if _you_ wanted one. There is absolutely no pressure on my part one way or the other.”

“I hadn’t thought about it at all until I took J.J. in.” She shrugged, her shoulders feeling sluggish and heavy. “But then I turned out to be pretty good at parenting, I think?”

“You were amazing,” he assured her, with the kindest conviction.

“And I—when he left, I was so...distraught. I thought then, that maybe I did want a baby?” She held his gaze, and took a large gulp of air before answering in a whisper, “Maybe I do?”

Jughead’s chest rose and fell sharply, then he reached to pull her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her like a cocoon. “This day has been a fucking mood board.”

“You’re not wrong.” Betty rested her head on his shoulder, happy to let this strange moment wash over them. “I bought a test, but I haven’t taken it yet. I didn’t want to do it before I knew if we—didn’t want to without you.”

Jughead stroked the side of her head, gingerly combing the loose strands of her hair that had fallen from her bun, his touch a warm reminder that he was in this with her. “Well, I’m home, now.”

“You are.” Her nerves were thrumming, and she gripped him tight like a security blanket, not quite ready for everything in her life to change. “Should we do the test now?”

He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into the steady pressure of his palm. “Maybe we could just sit here a little while longer if you don’t mind?”

Betty let out the breath she was holding and smiled. “I’d like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope this ended the way you all wanted it to?
> 
> A short, already-completed, 1K epilogue will be posted in a few days and should clear up any open-ended questions you have, including the answer to the pregnancy test. I just wanted to give everybody some time to process this chapter a bit before I posted it.
> 
> I have been humbled and flattered by the level of engagement this fic has received. You have no idea how much I appreciate your support. I am very aware I have the best readers on AO3, and you should be, too!
> 
> I would love to hear what you thought of the conclusion, so please drop an opinion in the comments section if you have the time, and don't forget to check back this week for the epilogue.
> 
> THANK YOU <3


	12. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the epilogue! Short but sweet.
> 
> Thanks to redcirce for giving it a read through for me, and to arsenicpanda for her support.

 

**EPILOGUE**

(Three Years Later)

 

* * *

 

 

If anybody had ever asked Jughead to willingly enroll in a Zumba class before today, he probably would have thrown a drink in their face. In the past, his one and only attempt at participating in an exercise class resulted in a swift exit from the studio room and an hour spent getting brain freeze at the gym’s smoothie bar. If he couldn’t handle one spin class, how would he be able to endure a six week program flailing his way through Baby Zumba?

 

The things he was willing to do for the women in his life apparently had no limit.

 

Archie was late, which had not been typical for him A.V. (After Veronica), but Jughead could excuse his friend’s flakiness; it’s not like Jughead had it at all together in the last month before his own child arrived.

 

A small pair of hands grappled onto Jughead’s shoulders for balance as ten tiny toes dug their way into the meat of his thigh.  His daughter, Katherine, clumsily pressed her forehead against his mouth. “Kiss Katie.”

 

He smiled against her silky hairline and planted a noisy kiss there. “Good?”

 

Neglecting to answer, she turned sideways to look toward the door, almost sliding to the floor before he caught her around the waist. “Archie not here.”

 

Jughead reached out and secured the elastic that was in danger of falling off the end of one of her braids and nodded. “Not yet, but he will be. Maybe the rainstorm is holding him up?”

 

“Bad.” Her lips pursed in an expression of disapproval that could rival Alice Cooper’s, then she flopped into his lap in a strop.

 

“She’s precious,” a woman purred, her voice cutting through the din of restless toddlers.

 

Jughead lifted his head to thank the speaker. The woman, with a carefully cultivated yoga body and holding a child around Katie’s age on her lap, was gazing heatedly at him.

 

“Thank you.” Jughead cleared his throat, sat up a little taller and peered expectantly at the front door. He hoped the woman would pick up on his distraction and leave him alone.

 

“Are you two here...alone?” She asked, not getting the hint, as she unsubtly tried to catch a glimpse of Jughead’s left hand. “I’m alone.”

 

He internally groaned and continued staring at the door, wishing for the millionth time he had the power to turn himself invisible while in one of these classes. “No. We’re just waiting for my—”

 

The door flew open, and Archie rushed inside, face flushed, clothes with patchy with moisture and a broken umbrella in hand which he unceremoniously tossed to the side as he entered. 

 

“I know, I know,” Archie said between gulps of air, bracing his hands on his thighs to catch his breath. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, emphasized even more by the dark circles rimming them. “I’m sorry I’m late. Ronnie couldn’t get close enough to the cabinet to reach something and needed my help.”

 

Katie leapt out of Jughead’s arms and threw herself at her uncle, who picked her up with one hand. “Hiii!”

 

“Hiii!” Archie parroted back in the same excited tone, before tossing her into the air.

 

Jughead tried in vain to snatch her from his arms. “Arch, come on, she just ate. You know you can’t jostle her like that right after she’s eaten or she’ll get a stitch.”

 

“That’s just a myth,” Archie cooed in a baby voice to Katie as he tossed her in the air again, clearly egged on by her wild laughter. “Isn’t that right, Katie?”

 

“Our living room rug would beg to differ,” Jughead shot back, disgruntled.

 

“You two look like a fun couple.” The yoga mom piped in without invitation. She inched slightly closer and lowered the volume of her voice. “I think our kids would play nicely together, don’t you think?” Her hand lazily brushed over her son’s blond mop of hair, like a Bond villain stroking a cat as she gave Archie an excruciatingly slow once over.  “I could organize a  _ special _ playdate for the three of us…if you boys are interested?” 

 

An elderly couple sitting adjacent with their granddaughter, looked over at them, scandalized.

 

Jughead and Archie exchanged an amused look, before Jughead turned to address the mom. “Yeah, uh, thanks for the kind offer, but we’re all booked up.”

 

Archie shrugged, trying his best to feign innocence. “I don’t know, Jug, you did say you were looking for more special playdates.”

 

The woman pointedly angled her head in Jughead’s direction again.

 

“My--he’s mistaken. Sorry.” At this point, Jughead wasn’t even bothering to aim for a contrite tone. “Fully booked in the special playdate department.”

 

She shrugged, cutting her losses, and turned to the dad sitting on the other side of her with a feral smile.

 

Archie settled with Katie on the floor next to Jughead, but his expression remained mischievous, prompting Jughead to lean forward and hiss, “You do that again and I’m going to fu--freaking smother you to death--”

 

Katie glanced up at Jughead with sad eyes.

 

“--with love,” Jughead added, with a tight smile. “And hugs.”

 

“Well, you do give great hugs.” Archie waggled his eyebrows. 

 

“Daddy hug.” Katie snuggled up to Jughead and he wrapped his arms around her, enjoying her easy affection. His baby wasn’t even three years old and he already couldn’t remember what life was like before her.

 

“Whelp, gotta jet.” Archie gently tugged the end of one of Katie’s braids and pushed himself to stand in one fluid, acrobatic movement that only served to remind Jughead just how little he’d been exercising since Katie entered his life. “Class is starting.”

 

“Don’t pull a muscle,” Jughead grumbled, as he watched Archie walk toward the front of the room, a sea of toddlers and caretakers parting like the Red Sea to let him through.

 

“Who is ready to ZOOM today?” Archie shouted into a wireless mic, arms thrown into the air with manufactured enthusiasm. “On your feet, party people!”

 

The opening strains of Justin Timberlake’s  _ Can’t Stop the Feeling! _ flooded the room as Jughead begrudgingly stood and placed Katie on the floor in front of him. A chorus of nearby toddlers shrieked with happiness, their parents looking less engaged but still singing along to the music. 

 

Jughead closed his eyes and tried his best to have an out-of-body experience as the crowd around him appeared to swell as they echoed Archie’s moves.

 

“Aww, I know from experience that you can move your hips better than that,” a familiar voice chuckled in his ear.

 

Jughead looked over his shoulder with a pained grin. “Any later, and I was contemplating serving you divorce papers.”

 

“You say this every time, and yet, you never do,” Betty crowed, hip checking him lightly out of the way so she could kiss their daughter’s head. 

 

“You could at least give me the dignity of pretending to believe me, couldn’t you?”

 

“We both know you’re not going anywhere.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, her lips sliding across his cheek as she danced in time with the music. “Plus, you’d never miss this class. You can’t pass up a weekly opportunity to annoy Archie if you’re not here, flaunting your lack of participation in the face of all of his high energy.”

 

Jughead reeled Betty back in for a proper kiss, not enough to attract attention, but enough for her to feel it. “Smartass,” he whispered against her lips.

 

“The smartest.” Betty winked, then lifted Katie into her arms and the two of them began mouthing the words to the song together.

 

Jughead looked around the room at the different types of families, hailing from a wide spectrum of cultures and circumstances, and wondered if any of the other parents had grown up the way he had, rudderless and desperate. Did they also suffer existential crises trying to parent when they had such a poor personal experiences growing up? It was still unbelievable to Jughead that the doctors let him walk out of the hospital with an actual human being in his arms.

 

Katie snorted a laugh as she twisted her hands into her mother’s hair. 

 

During the early days with Katie, Betty often calmed Jughead’s nerves by telling him that all parents were winging it, that even people who had experience growing up with good parents didn’t have an inside track on how to raise kids perfectly, because it was just as important to know what not to do as it was to have quality people to pattern yourself after. She said they could learn from their parents’ mistakes without repeating them, and tried to comfort him with the idea that that even on their worst days, they would still be better parents than the Woody Allen.

 

Katie reached for Jughead’s hand, and his insides melted like spun sugar on a hot day, a faint, giddy feeling occurring every time he remembered that this was actually his life and he would get to keep it.

 

He allowed his daughter to pull him closer, even forcing himself to sway in place to please his girls.

 

Betty’s eyes lit up with delight at his effort and she smiled softly, continuing to sing, “I can’t stop the feelin’...”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was how you wanted to see it end. I can’t believe it’s over! 
> 
> Thanks again for all of your kind words and support throughout this fic. I feel very lucky to have such great readers.
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts if you feel like commenting.
> 
> Until next time...

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is gold.


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